#oda x reader comfort

[causenessus]

comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong. 

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day. 

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go. 

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him. 

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time. 

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back. 

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut. 

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work. 

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat. 

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

[chuunai]

i know odasaku barely lost the poll buuuut you should do it anyways :)

baby daddy odasaku ! who hugs you tightly for a while silently after you tell him you’re pregnant. you two had been trying for a while now—sure, you had the orphans to take care of, but you wanted one of your own—and now it was real.

baby daddy odasaku ! who is the definition of a perfect husband and father-to-be. calmly holding back your hair as you puke your guts out at four in the morning. cooking all your cravings (perfectly) and feeding it to you. reassuring you that you were the most beautiful woman in the world and that a bit of weight gain from his child wouldn’t change anything.

baby daddy odasaku ! who totally does one of those belly casting kits for when your stomach starts to swell. smoothing the strips over your stomach and occasionally patting it. expect the orphans to paint on the casting (he made two—a blank slate and a casting for the kids to paint and gift to you).

baby daddy odasaku ! who (with your permission) tells Dazai and Ango one night at Bar Lupin that he’ll be a father soon. Dazai asks to be the godfather of which he declines. Dazai’s a child himself, after all. Ango merely offers his thanks and support for you two. he doesn’t drink as much anymore, too.

baby daddy odasaku ! who holds you on the days where everything feels like shit. the curtains drawn, the air conditioning on and his sturdy arms wrapped around you as you cry into his chest. those days are the ones where he takes the next day off to make sure you’re okay and feel loved by him. he’s read about the mood swings and insecurities that pregnancy has.

baby daddy odasaku ! who paints an entire nursery for the newborn. a light yellow is chosen for the walls. stuffed toys (gifted from Ango) are neatly placed in the crib. the whole house is baby proofed, too. he isn’t taking your newfound family lightly.

baby daddy odasaku ! who cradles your sleeping daughter to his chest after she finally falls asleep. while she snuggles into his chest, he’s sat at his desk, supporting her tiny head carefully as he revises a draft of a story he wrote about a woman that oddly resembles you. it’s expected though. you’re his muse. the one who gave him his daughter. he just hopes to finish the story as a gift for you.

baby daddy odasaku ! who relishes in his new life. escaping from the mafia wasn’t easy—thank god for his friends’ help—but it was worth it. for you and his daughter.

Oda would be one of the best dads and he is strictly a girl dad !

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts, @xxcandlelightxx

[aduckinpain]

The Sunset clashes on waves of Cobalt

Tags: Character study style writing, Hurt/comfort, Happy Ending, Pure Soukoku, Everything in chronological order, Dazai Osamu's in character existential crisis, They're in love, Dazai's obsession with Chuuya's corruption, his obsession with chuuya honestly.

Word Count: 7.3k

This is also on AO3 by roianamustang (me).

Life is finicky. Evasive. Confusing. A fluke. Something, created from nearly nothing, by pure chance. It’s involuntary. You wake up one day, only to acknowledge your newly discovered existence by at least 2 years. Your lungs expand, your heart beats, your blood rushes, your ears hear and your eyes see. And your mind runs. It runs and runs, it runs out of breath. It searches for more, information flooding from every crevice.

Life is important, according to every living being. Even the most miniscule little creature will value it over anything else, whether that be by running, hiding or fighting. Even plants reach for the sun in hopes of waking up the next morning.

Dazai Osamu reached for the Sun when he was five and it burned. Leaving trails in its wake. 

Life is a continuous string of events that emerges by chance. It has variables so intricate, they can’t be calculated. Time, variety, coincidence. Fate. It starts unknown, and it ends the same.

Depending on where you live, people can live a healthy 80 years, and die peacefully in their bed, surrounded by loved ones. Yet, one lifetime is not enough.

We enter this world unwillingly, so why do we fight so hard for it?

Why are we so scared of death? Of the unknown?

How can you love life so much, that you fear the end of it?

What’s so unique about monotony and routines?

At the end of the day humans are mammals. Their ability to produce milk and have hair puts them in another category, while their capability of thought and intelligence, puts them in another rank. 

And still, our reason for living is to just not die. Survival, something every other creature on this earth, prioritizes.

So he doesn’t get it. 

Things can be pretty, things can be sacred, they can be fun, loving, but they are all temporary. Most of the emotions a human being feels in a lifetime are neutrality and anxiety, stress, fear, sadness, nostalgia and melancholy. Happiness and excitement, in its purest form are the rarest, with sudden entrances and premature disappearances. They’re hard to find, hard to replicate, hard to give. 

And at the end of it all, you die and everything is forgotten. You are a machine run by tubes and liquid that shuts off and that is it.

The world with all of its colors is bleak, the humans vary physically yet act similarly, predictably, and life dies.

But normal people don’t think like this. Normal people don’t stare at their ceiling willing themselves to drink water or eat food. Normal people don’t burn when others touch them. They don’t numb when their surroundings become too much. They don’t hate. 

They care and they love and they find meanings in everything.

Dazai doesn't.

Dazai hurts.

Why can’t he just be normal and meaningless and random and flitting and living and dead? 

Why can’t he be human?

What is he?

15 years of Dazai’s life have passed and he can confidently say that he has effectively erased his first 10 and blurred the last 5.

It all comes to a shocking halt, or more accurately, a start, when one moment he was walking in the empty, dusty streets of Suribachi City, with its secrets and rats, and the next he was…not?

Air escaped his lungs so fast, Dazai couldn’t even process the ever moving environment. 

Blink.

He blinked and he saw blue.

He blinked again, and he saw waves of cobalt crashing upon the sunset’s rays.

Or more realistically crashing into him.

A foot holding him down and the other kicking his face, Dazai Osamu breathed and felt air enter his blood for the first time since he was born.

The sun shone. 

And so did his eye.

His heart filled with oxygen. Beating steadily for the first time.

When Mori told him ‘Nothing dangerous’, he of course didn’t believe it. And looking at the bright red head of hair next to him, so tiny, so miniscule, so small, compact, microscopi-

“The fuck you looking at?”

Blue turned to him, glaringly darker and in the background he was very aware of the noise leaving its mouth. 

He just didn’t care to listen.

Nakahara Chuuya. 15 years old and yet, here he stood. The leader of The Sheep. So loud. So present in such a small body, as if it couldn’t contain him. As if it held death and destruction, and life.

Even by Dazai’s own standards, he wasn’t stupid. Chuuya was dangerous. To what extent he’s not sure yet, still willing to push some more buttons, to see some more outcomes, but still at the very least, he is very strong. And while he would love to pester Mori about this sudden mission, something was holding him back.

The next thing Dazai knows the gun is getting kicked out of his hand.

Blink.

And another blink. His eye captures life and Dazai Osamu jerks in its hold.

‘In other words, the suicidal maniac wants to live.’

‘I’ve come to think its worth trying.’

Because of you was left unspoken and yet to be understood by either one of them.

With Randou dead, Dazai had already started putting other plans in motion. 

Nakahara Chuuya lost a bet after all, he now needed to pay the price.

Looking at him now, on top of rocks, rubble around him, water rising and waves crashing, never getting close to that blue of his, breath stuttering, eyes hurt. 

Dazai had never seen something more human.

He wanted that.

He wanted Chuuya.

Dazai wanted Chuuya.

Odasaku was quiet. As a man yes, but also as a presence. Odasaku was a blank slate willing to hand you the pen, write on him and react accordingly. He did not uphold expectations or even judgment. 

Dazai liked Odasaku. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend to sleep with the man’s presence next to him.

Odasaku listened and answered in seemingly normal replies that sometimes caught Dazai by surprise. So when he had ranted about Nakahara Chuuya to him the last thing he had expected was the man to say that ‘Nakahara seems like a nice guy then yeah?’. 

A small moment of quiet had made Oda turn, locking eyes with the fifteen year old. 

And he halted.

Dazai made some sort of noise of surprise and frustration and went through another round of ranting, screeching, he wasn’t sure at this point, all of it to properly make Odasaku understand the vile creature he had been stuck with babysitting.

He could keep yapping all he wanted, cause Oda Sakunosuke had never in his life met a kid like Dazai Osamu. 

And until now, Oda Sakunosuke had never seen that singular brown orb turn caramel with light. 

He had never seen Dazai Osamu look so alive before. 

Smiling, he continued listening to the annoyed voice of the boy next to him.

Seemingly out of spite, in Dazai’s eye at least, Odasaku, very out of character just replied with an outrageous statement that Dazai could not allow to even exist, never mind be thought, even worse be stated to the air surrounding him.

‘You really like this guy huh?’

And the cycle repeated.

As it would for the next 3 years.

Arahabaki, the lab, the Flags, Verlaine. If he couldn’t have a break, he can’t imagine what it is like for Chuuya. Well, if he cared enough in the first place.

Dazai is a notorious liar. He knows that, after all, he did perfect the skill on his own. However, in this moment, after all of these fights and new revelations, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t just tired. Having to deal with Verlaine’s corruption activation and planning for counter attacks was a new challenge, yes, but one he would have enjoyed more if his dog wouldn’t be the center of them in the first place.

If Dazai was tired, Chuuya was exhausted. 

And grieving.

He’d watched Chuuya fight, watched him anger, rage. But after the Sheep, he didn’t think he’d ever watch him break.

Following the beeping red light of his tracker, that he'd placed in Chuuya’s shoes, of course without his knowledge, the last thing he had expected was to be led to the Mafia’s transportation unit. 

Walking in, the echo of the weird fancy shoes that were given to him collided with the walls of the garage. The lights flickered in certain spots, almost as if on purpose.

It was so quiet, he’d imagine that if a feather fell, it would still be heard. 

Which is what confused him.

Nakahara Chuuya was not a quiet person. He was loud, deafening and present at all times. Everything he did was flashy, deliberately or not. 

‘Finding Chuuya is always easy. If you head towards whatever is making the loudest noise, he’ll be there.’

So either his tracker:

a) didn’t work

b) was found and eaten by his dog

Or

c) Chuuya was like dying or something.

The echo halted along with every other noise when he stepped into the small side room. 

He blinked again. Life was flickering.

Anything. 

He would do anything for it to be one of those options.

He would do anything just to have Chuuya rise to his feet.

He would do anything just to have him stop crying.

Dazai was frozen there. For the first time in a long while he felt powerless. He knew what to do when he was feeling this way but he’d never do those things to Chuuya.

Chuuya just stood there, sitting against an obnoxious pink motorcycle, heaving. 

And yet, he was quiet.

You could barely hear his breath stuttering, almost as if he just wanted the ground to swallow him whole, his existence to stop, to just disappear. He seemed so out of it, that he hadn’t even noticed Dazai just standing there.

Feeling his brain reboot, Dazai went to work. He’d treat this like a mission if he had to.

Chuuya liked touch. Not with just anyone no, however one of his main ways of expressing affection and care always seemed to be with vague caresses. Or punches.

But whenever Dazai got like this, he hated touch.

Brows furrowed in confusion, he tried racking his brain for a solution. He’d do both.

Making his steps loud and clear allowed him to be processed by Chuuya’s already small, but now hindered brain. Dazai took off his jacket and lowered to the ground, putting himself between the wall and Chuuya, taking off Chuuya’s hat and wrapping him head to toe. 

Chuuya had somehow gone even more quiet, and now he’d gotten tense. He can’t have that, so Dazai, for the first time in his life, hugged.

He closed his arms around the small frame and hoped.

A minute passed, maybe two, before he felt Chuuya deflate. He didn’t try to stop him from crying, that wouldn’t help, he just held him closer, allowing the weight of the smaller body to push him towards the wall behind his back.

The man- no the boy in his arms kept shaking and Dazai just didn’t know what to do. Reluctantly, scared to do anything wrong, he let his right hand rake through the now freed red locks and pushed his head closer to his own shoulder, this way Chuuya wouldn’t get even more tired.

A gasp of air, a gulp, a sharp intake and the words coming next broke Dazai’s already dead heart.

Why?

Why?

Why me?

What did I do?

I'm sorry. I’m sorry, I'm sorry, please just stop.

Because if Dazai had to name the most human person he’d met, he’d always say Chuuya.

If Dazai had to name the most raw showcase of human range, he’d always say Chuuya.

If Dazai had to name a person, he’d always say Chuuya.

Not your fault Chuuya, it never is.

He won’t hurt like this ever again.

Dazai will make sure of it. Nothing has the right to hurt his Chuuya like this, not even him.

Molten brown had turned dark and Dazai Osamu made a promise to himself.

He never made promises, they required you to stay alive.

But this one was the first one. 

The first one he’ll make sure to bring to his grave.

The entrance to Dazai’s office has a dark oak door, engraved with vines that curl on its edges. Its handle is typical Mafia gold. The office itself is nothing special, he made sure of it. Pristine, dark plates built his floor, almost mockingly, a carpet lay over them, right in the middle and a dark red Chesterfield sofa stood to the side of a small table. If he had to give it a color it would be deoxygenated blood. Or Corruption swirls. He certainly liked one more than the other. 

Today Mori sounded weird.

-er than usual.

Dazai makes a point to not use this office, but today it awaited him with a small stack of papers smack dab into the middle of his wooden empty desk. No pen in sight. This document wasn’t paperwork, it was information.

It would be ironic to say he had a bad feeling about it as some people would argue he’s got those all the time and they overwhelmed him. Some would argue he isn’t capable of feeling them in the first place. Both arguments are stated in late nights between missions and a very talkative red blob in his (read: Chuuya’s) apartment. 

Its quiet in this office, his shoes echo and he’s distinctly aware of the air around him colliding with his skin. A quick look around with his eye showed no signs of a trap.

Mimic.

A guerrilla organization from Europe that escaped to Japan after committing a war-crime sometime during the past global war. Mori wanted them dead. Or at least that’s what he said. But this apparent important information of a highly dangerous organization was not given to Soukoku.

No, it was given to the low-leveled grunt worker, Oda Sakunosuke. 

It was given to Odasaku.

Skimming through the documents, Dazai swiftly left the office.

He would never see it again.

Odasaku was quiet. As a man yes, but also as a presence. Odasaku was a blank slate willing to hand you the pen, write on him and react accordingly. He did not uphold expectations or even judgment. 

Dazai liked Odasaku. 

And at this point he could safely claim that new information had been updated in his Odasaku file.

Odasaku, throughout the years, cared for Dazai.

Now, Dazai cared for Odasaku.

The longest of nights, when he didn’t want a loud distraction or bloodied floors, he texted Oda. He would always answer, they’d meet up and they’d stay quiet. Just in the presence of the other. 

Dazai always felt safe and against his better judgment, understood by Chuuya, but being near Chuuya meant that at some point vulnerability would rear its ugly head, on those days Dazai just wanted a known space with a comforting presence. Odasaku was just that.

Chuuya was warm and bright and alive. He tethered Dazai to the concept of a human being. But sometimes Dazai just wanted an empty, fuzzy head. Sometimes the only exception of touch for Dazai was not what he wanted at the moment. So he searched for long nights and useless topics followed by silences and burning drinks or scalding curry.

Dazai found his constants for however many more years he’d survive this Earth.

The narrative was written and he felt content enough.

So why did the story change?

It had been a close call, a stroke of luck you could even call it, saving Odasaku in time the first time. And it has and will always be a lost cause convincing the man to kill instead of flee. 

It had been a close call, a stroke of luck you could even call it, saving Odasaku in time the second time. An extra wound added from Ango’s betrayal. 

If he could do it twice, what was a third time?

A bullet was shot. A body was falling.

So why were his hands warm? Why did they match the color of his sofa?

Why did it have to be Odasaku?

He found out about the kids but it was too late.

He found out about the motive but it was too late.

He figured out Mori’s plan.

It was too late.

You won’t find it.

Be on the side that saves people.

If both sides are the same, become a good man.

It’s pretty fady after that.

Contacting Ango was easy.

Burying Odasaku wasn’t.

Dazai Osamu, Demon Prodigy, youngest Port Mafia Executive, existed no more.

The only loose thread he had, was his other half on the other side of the world waiting to finish a mission.

He’d leave that thread sewn in.

He’d plant a bomb. 

He’d send a message.

He’d go into hiding for two years.

And for now, he’d live.

In the blink of an eye, Dazai Osamu had disappeared. 

People exist to save themselves.

A year and a half had already passed but it's not like Dazai had a concept of time anyways. The hiding and the erasure was easy. The boredom was not. Boredom brewed silences. Silences happened alone now. Being alone let his head be free. Or trapped he’d say, is the better description of it. 

It was raining today. Enough to keep the ground wet. Being in hiding didn’t really allow Dazai to wander but no one was looking for him under a lone tree, leaning on a gravestone in the middle of a field, so he let himself have this. 

He leaned his head on the stone. The rain wasn’t just heavy enough to keep the ground wet but also to drench him completely, but the sound of it was almost comforting in a way. The sky a uniform gray spanning into the horizon boringly, something it rarely does. 

The bomb had taken a bit to be processed by the slug’s brain, but it was successfully understood. For the first time in a while Dazai had reached out his hand first and let Chuuya make the decision. Contact would be hard, dangerous and almost non-existent, but he was willing to try. 

Of course after an even longer period of silence, because if Chuuya was one thing, it was petty.

So every now and then, on an anniversary or birthday, a mysterious little bouquet of Red Camellias would show up on the red head’s door.

A symbol of death yes, but that of a noble one. Sacred, godly. Left to the hands of a God of Calamity.

Unwavering loyalty.

Trust.

And every now and then, on an anniversary or birthday, something would be awaiting Dazai right next to the door. Whether that be a set or freshly rolled bandages or a gaming console.

A sigh left his lungs, uncovered irises following its trail disappear into thin air.

He got a soda before coming here, a funny joke he thinks Odasaku would chuckle with. Laughing just by yourself is just sad at this point.

S. Oda engraved in stone, buried in soil, clawing his head.

He’d use that as an excuse for the extra weight slipping from his eyes. 

Beige felt weird on him. It had been Odasaku’s signature color and Dazai was wearing it in tribute to that but it felt weird on him. 

Nevertheless, this wasn’t about him.

He climbed the stairs of a fairly new Detective Agency. He could almost feel the nerves, if he’d let himself feel in the first place.

The door opened almost dramatically, and the sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the nearly white tiles. 

“You’re here.”

Before him stood an older man with horrifically gray hair. The Boss of this thing then. Coffee brown eyes took in everything around him. There were three more people there.

A man sat behind a desk with curiously shut eyes and an insane amount of candy lay in front of him. That one was dangerous, he knew things and knew that Dazai knew he knew things.

A woman stood by the side of what looked like to be the inside of an infirmary, he knew of Yosano, or more accurately, of the consequences of her existence.

The most normal one of all had to be this one blonde man who looked like he’d blow a fuse if something didn’t go his way. Perfect, he’d need one of those.

Blinking for a moment, Dazai almost went into autopilot.

This would be different.

Everything Dazai did was deliberate. The only thing that could either act exactly according to his plan or be entirely unpredictable comes in the form of a small, small, horribly dressed, fancy street magician with a choker, that is currently walking, very loudly down the Port Mafia’s basement stairs. 

And oh, did Dazai miss this. 

Sure, during his hiding he may have gone once or twice to look at the slumbering, probably drunk at the time, man in front of him. But seeing Chuuya Nakahara subdued by slumber is like missing the Sun behind dark thick clouds. 

Chuuya spoke and he answered on instinct mostly. A knife at his throat and Dazai Osamu hadn’t felt alive in years with no contact from blue hues. 

A punch, a kick, the ground crumbled beneath his feet, Dazai didn’t care he was just about ready to kneel at this point. 

A sharp movement from the man in front of him made him pause. That was as much as a question, statement and reminder Chuuya would give him. This was Port Mafia territory, the hand holding the deck here was Mori.

They snapped back into their roles quickly, but he just couldn’t resist making that joke.

And if he saw Chuuya smile while climbing the stairs he can’t say, because for the first time in 4 years Dazai Osamu laughed and his heart started beating again.

Contrary to popular belief, Dazai didn't mind kids. In fact they always seemed increasingly intrigued by his presence. Odasaku’s orphans seemed absolutely delighted when he showed up.

Yumeno Kyusaku, better known as ‘Q’, was honestly not any different. Dazai had recruited them, finding resemblance to his own situation and past. 

However Q was not Dazai. They were just a kid. A small child with an incredibly dangerous ability and puppeteer, being pulled from one direction to the other only to be returned to a cold, desolate room at the end of the day, alone.

So to be completely honest, he didn't mind this mission. Or at the very least, he didn’t mind this mission’s goal. The variables needed for it to succeed however, were not, as you would say, one of his greater fortés. Technically it was his greatest.

Heavy, determined, meaningful footsteps fell into silence on his left side. A flash of red, contrasted by dark, gloomy clothes, stood beside him, calm.

Who's he kidding? Since when was Chuuya ever quiet, nevertheless calm. Well, towards him anyways.

“Are we just gonna stare at the door and wither away, or should we get a move on already?” Glaring blues had turned toward him. He could always feel their presence.

Dazai had no interest indulging a loud, yapping dog, so with an exaggerated sigh and some kind words exclaimed, that definitely did not have him nearly lose an arm and a leg, they entered the weird cottage-house-situation-thing.

Their steps immediately fall into sync and echo throughout the empty walls, while Dazai's heart sang and asked and wanted. 

4 years of quiet actions and no contact, the yearning reaching every crevice of his mind at every second. One meeting and a truce and comfort had finally arrived at his doorstep, again. 

As he, of course, sidestepped a kick aimed at his head.

Glancing slightly to his side, even the bland stone walls seemed to shine and sparkle. Banter jumped off each stair along with them.

“The only thing I like about you is your taste in shoes.” A slight pause and the other pair of steps stood still for a second.

“You think?” Was said sarcastically with a slight shine of hope hidden underneath it, as if anything would change in these 4 years. 

“Just kidding, of course.” Before even finishing the sentence, a crash and a yell were heard. Giggles collided with the surrounding bricks. 

They were Soukoku after all, they knew each other from the inside out.

Whatever this thing was, it definitely was not human. It didn’t even seem made. Every limb, or more accurately, goo, that was cut off would regenerate in seconds. So while Chuuya was doing his job as the brawn of the duo, Dazai, as the brain, was supposed to be planning ahead.

But he was stuck.

Was this it?

The downfall of the deadliest duo in Yokohama, possibly Japan, and in Dazai’s humble opinion, the World?

Had they changed so much?

He had two constants in life and one had already left him, he couldn’t lose this one.

As if sensing his turmoil, a slight kick to his feet made him blink rapidly. Turning towards the ginger he locked eyes with the annoyed glare decorating his face.

He could practically hear ‘Stop with the theatrics already’ with a small chihuahua animated right beside it.

Before he could get a full sentence out Dazai was slammed vigorously at the trunk of a tree. Vision whitening for a good second, his hearing quickly came back to the rushing footsteps and dare he say, panicked voice of Chuuya.

Coughing blood he slowly tried to rise up. “Those tentacles sure are strange.” Confusion showed itself on the shorter man’s face. “I can't disable them.”

“Bullshit. Is that even possible?” brows lifting upwards, Dazai could see Chuuya trying to grasp the situation.

The thing that works about Sokouku isn’t just the cards up their sleeves, Dazai’s capabilities and Chuuya’s prowess. No, it's more of this. Of looks being exchanged, the air between them still, no words to break it. It's this weird connection, that no matter how many times Dazai tried to replicate, run away from or find, it would lead back to a penthouse and blood money and his first reason to live.

Grinning in a way he hasn’t in a long time, Dazai could feel the adrenaline building up. “All right. Let’s do things the old way.”

Letting his eyes wonder about on the other man’s features, always searching, he asks. “How about Operation Shame and Toad?” A miniscule movement of the redhead’s left brow already had given his answer.

“What is this, Rain beyond the Window?” Chuuya put his hand on his hips, slightly leaning on one side. ”It’s more like The Lie of the Fake Flowers.”

Fond delight brewed in his chest, leaking when he could finally say the others name face to face after such a long time. “Chuuya, when have my tactics ever been wrong?

The fight went on for about 3 minutes and 49 seconds. A monster arose and so did a choice.

Whenever you ask that of me, it’s never really a choice.

Dazai watched with a bated breath as the other half of Double Black slowly slid down his gloves, letting them fall on the ground below. 

He thinks that if Chuuya had at least hesitated, let himself have a moment, Dazai would be just a normal man with a normal reaction. 

4 years later and his partner’s blind trust towards him managed to sever his eyes and clutch his heart. He’d never manage to replicate the pure exhilarated feeling he gets near the man he's known since he was 15. 

As lines fell from soft lips, red markings started traveling up Chuuya’s face. 

O’ granters of dark disgrace,

need not wake me again

It seems that alongside Dazai, a god was awaiting for the same thing.

When Corruption was first triggered, they were dead men on a mission to the underworld. Two fifteen year olds with too much power and responsibility over their shoulder, in their hands, dripping over their head, falling down the tiles of the Port Mafia territory. They’d shaken hands with Death so many times already, ready to surrender to its clutches. But if there was one thing— one person who always seemed to look at Death in the eye and crumble its skull into pieces, it would be Chuuya.

It was beautiful.

The air around it came to a stop as if the man, the god, before him could change the direction of that and more with a flick of his wrist.

Destruction reigned a victor in the remains of anyone or anything that could gather the courage to go against it, most of them being oblivious men in insignificant organizations. Ignorance truly is bliss.

Blood dripped down onto the ground staining it, feeding it.

Mortality looked beautiful on Chuuya.

And it danced in between Dazai’s ropes of bandages.

Nakahara Chuuya was a phenomenon a normal man would witness once in his life before succumbing to death, and Dazai Osamu was blessed to have him on the tips of his fingers and in the depths of his withering soul.

Touching the floating man’s wrist shortly thereafter silenced the god, trapping it in its cage of human ribs and indomitable spirit.

Looking down at the man on his lap, Dazai allowed himself a moment of want, tracing down the nose bridge. It was honestly unfair, the lab didn’t have to make him pretty.

Slowly folding Chuuya’s coat and finding his stupid hat was slightly harder considering the state of the environment around them, but he managed as always. 

Now came the hard part. Throughout their time as a duo, any time Corruption was activated, Dazai had two jobs.

Save Chuuya and bring him home safely.

However after his defection from the Mafia, he couldn’t exactly do that, as it would be considered kidnapping.  

But he could wait a little bit more. Until he would hear Hirotsu’s men running towards the designated coordinates. 

So he let himself have this and if you asked him after two bottles of Sake and a night of no sleep, Dazai Osamu might admit that he missed Nakahara Chuuya.

One last stroke of his fingers on the other’s eyelids, feeling his long eyelashes beneath his fingertips and promises whispered in quiet ears, and Dazai left the forest.

He never made promises, they required you to stay alive.

But it seems he can’t seem to stop making them when a certain man slumbers rent free in his troubled mind. Strong and untouchable even amidst the chaos in his brain.

Dead Apple, the ADA, Fyodor, Shibusawa, Corruption.

Chuuya.

Chuuya.

Chuuya.

When was it ever not Chuuya?

A sharp pain flooded his senses, making Dazai cough the blood out of his mouth and open his eyes. A smile immediately followed. The view before him could rival centuries of human art.

‘You used Corruption, believing in me?

How beautiful.’

To anyone else, it would be insanity. 

Gigantic ability merging dragon shows up and renders every human with gifts useless. People flee and fight and die. 

In their case, Dazai sends a message and Chuuya, as always, understands.

No matter the encryption or the complexity of it, the choice was sent and explained and was always followed through.

Because who else would put the lives of a country on past intertwined hands and shared breaths?

Who else would see the afterlife and jump at it in pure trust that it would be fleeting?

Who else but Dazai and Chuuya.

Chuuya and Dazai.

Soukoku.

Double Black.

Scariest and strongest duo in Yokohama and possibly more.

One soul, two bodies.

One human, one not.

Depending on who you ask about it, they'd have conflicting answers, but in the end, it never mattered.

Brushing away the red locks from Chuuya’s face, Dazai looked at the sky and smiled.

The galloping of horses’ heels chips away at Dazai Osamu’s thoughts. The Decay of Angels with Fyodor at its head will always be a danger. To be fair to the demon, everything with him in the center of it would always be a danger to itself and others. 

After the Sacramental Bow Award was given to the agency, the greatest work they had had was 

Mushitarou Oguri and his Perfect Murder ability. The case had stumped Ranpo, even if it was for about 2 minutes, and had proven itself a challenge and an award. However the last words that Mushitarou guy said, more accurately screamed, at them had been ringing in Dazai’s and Ranpo’s heads.

‘The Detective Agency is about to get a huge job offer! Don’t accept it! If you do, it’ll be the end of the Agency! You hear me? Don’t you dare accept—’

A man had fallen into step next to him, watching the race. Dazai particularly hates small talk but he’d learned to act a long time ago. 

Not just that but something was off.

In the blink of an eye and a twitch of a smile,

‘You won’t have tomorrow, former Port Mafia Executive, Dazai Osamu.’

Meursault Prison opened its doors and the Detective Agency plunged to its doom.

The Agency was framed and named a terrorist organization. That wasn’t the worst of it either, from what Ango had informed him, the world had seen the whole thing. On live television.

They had seen the execution of more than 10 political figures, their bodies cut right in half. A rising reputation had changed at the drop of a hat. 

Sighing deeply, he couldn’t help but think that he still had it worse than the others. Turning his head towards his left, he locked eyes with the thing across his cell. Fyodor Dostoevsky stood there, a permanent, horrendous smile on his disgusting face.

Honestly, he couldn’t wait for Chuuya.

Dazai’s big secret to communicating with the outside world was, ironically, his heart. His immediate point of contact was , as always, Ango Sakaguchi. 

When he was 15, one bright, sunny day, Dazai was bored. When tinkering around Mori’s office and bothering said man, did not bring him any more joy, he let himself bend over one of the many tables filled with medicine. Purple orbs flickered towards him for a moment, before a small, in Dazai’s opinion and many others, repulsing, smile showed on the face of its beholder.

Morse code was old news and bored thoughts to Dazai, but a new option was introduced.

With this in mind, when the vampire outbreak broke, Dazai was one of the first people to find out. 

Leaning on the small table, blinking, can only do so much for a grown man. “Maybe it’s time to do the thing.”

“The thing?” The thump of the book closing would’ve echoed if they weren’t in an ability protected prison.

Before Dazai could fully explain his, obviously, genius plan, the ground opened and swallowed him whole.

Literally.

Breathe in, breathe out, expand, contract, pump. Silence is noisy, until your vision sees bright flashing lights and your ears hear loud, blaring alarms.

Warning! Warning!

Intruder in the Level One Delivery Bay!

Anti-Gifted Fast Response Squad Hecatoncheires has been eliminated!

Neither the poison in his blood, nor the commotion on the outside managed to increase Dazai’s beats per minute. 

The shaking of the building and Fyodor’s smile didn’t manage to either. 

The sight of bright red locks did.

An angel whispered in my ear.

‘Chuuya, it looks like this is goodbye.’

As if. If that ever happened, they’d both be gone. 

‘It’s a shame it had to happen this way.’

It’ll never happen like this. Not on his watch.

‘It’s been seven years since we met. ‘

Feels like forever. It’ll always feel like that when Dazai started living on that very same day they met.

‘We never did get along, did we?’

Bullshit and they both know it.

‘But, come to think of it now, there were times where we understood each other.’

Every day, every hour, minute, second. Dazai’s lungs breathed the same air as Chuuya's on the chance that he could always be engulfed by his presence.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything Anyway… Goodbye!’

It was getting a bit too gay anyways. Even by his own standards.

Breaking bones hurt. Walking hurt. A bullet in your shoulder hurt.

Everything hurt. Dazai hates pain.

The tapping of fancy dress shoes were not lost in his delayed, post-blood lost brain.

A sigh slipped out before he managed to catch it, but if Dazai was one thing, he was but a yapper at heart.

This has to finish soon anyway, that horrid misty red did nothing to Chuuya’s composition. 

Blue was nice, he missed blue.

A bang ricocheted off the prison walls and Dazai’s head fell.

Power of friendship his ass. It was more on the realm of homosexuality.

From then on things happened slightly in a blur. Sigma was still asleep, Fyodor was a fresh smoothie, Gogol, or whatever his name was, was gay, he guessed.

And Chuuya was fine. He had taken off those horrendous contact lenses and was currently trying to pull out the fake teeth Dazai gave him.

Should’ve known better than to use the glue in the box, as it was insanely easy to exchange for a stronger, not water soluble glue.

But now Dazai was tired. So, so tired. So he let himself be caught by unrelenting, familiar arms and he closed his eyes.

Life is finicky. Evasive. Confusing. A fluke. Something, created from nearly nothing, by pure chance. It’s involuntary.

Life is important, according to every living being. 

We enter this world unwillingly, yet we fight so hard for it.

And at the end of it all, you die and everything is forgotten. You are a machine run by tubes and liquid that shuts off and that is it.

But is it really that easy?

Human beings' evolution stemmed from the ability to be conscious and aware of the fact that they are alive. Because in reality we are not just a machine run by tubes and liquids. We feel too much and think too little and live too hard.

We fight for survival to the point where we start thinking, is it worth it?

But normal people don’t think like this. Normal people don’t stare at their ceiling willing themselves to drink water or eat food. Normal people don’t burn when others touch them. They don’t numb when their surroundings become too much. They don’t hate. 

They care and they love and they find meanings in everything.

And so does Dazai.

It took him a bit. It took him actually trying to see, that he does.

Why can’t he just be normal and meaningless and random and flitting and living and dead? 

But he is. Isn’t he?

Why can’t he be human?

What is he?

What else can a creature with this much awareness, curiosity and confusion be?

Nothing really changed, not really. He just gained experience. And lost some.

Walking turned out to be harder than you remembered when one of your legs is utterly fucked. 

Left.

Right. 

Left.

Right. 

Slip.

Hold.

Or at least try to. Close your eyes, brace for impact. A well-oiled machine of repetition. 

He’s used to that, after all the human body learns ways to cope everyday.

Before Dazai’s face kissed the broken tiles of the prison, he was…..floating?

A singular brown orb slowly opened taking in the environment around him. His head felt fuzzy.

Gray tiles turned to smithereens contrasted expensive inky shoes. Following the line of, admittedly, short legs, the puke green jacket emerged forth an expression of disgust on his own face. It reminded him of stupid, white fluffy animals and bloody betrayals. 

Before he managed to follow the tendril of red laying on a shoulder, a black glove shoved itself on his face. On instinct he opened his left eye and followed the trailing finger currently smoothing the space between his eyebrows.

“You look incredibly stupid right now.” Snapping his eyes to the source of the voice Dazai blinked.

When no answer was exclaimed, a tilt of the head was translated and understood by both parties. Chuuya let him take it in for a bit, as he was now stupidly aware of everything. Almost as if he knew it before Dazai’s own body, the gloved hand pressed itself again. 

A scarlet eyebrow arose and Dazai blinked in approval. The hand previously holding his expressions hostage snapped. Ow echoed through the prison walls, a pout quickly forming.

Rolling his eyes, Chuuya quickly, almost instinctively started pulling him on his back. “Oh shut up, you big baby.”

“But Chuuya, you would dare hurt an injured hero!”

Blah, blah, blah.

Dazai couldn’t tell what that conversation was for the life of him but he doesn’t need to, not with Chuuya. On his best attempt to be conspicuous he put his face on the shorter man’s junction between his shoulder and neck, and slowly rubbed against it, a small smile emerging. Somehow even though the ginger went through each horrendous trial that he did, he could smell the insanely expensive products he used on his hair. Closing his eyes Dazai felt the rhythmic sound of each step, allowing himself to be safe in the only place he’s ever been. Before succumbing to slumber he felt a reassuring squeeze on his thighs.

And if another pair of lips stretched to accommodate a small smile in return, that was only for Chuuya to know.

Let’s go home.

The sun stretched languidly, filtering itself through the curtains of a penthouse. Its walls built on blood money and memories and two people, awake, aware and human.

Tangled limbs transacted warmth as Dazai felt his awaken. Arms coiled around his head blocking any sound the city could make, while fingers thread through his hair. If he closed his eyes now, he’d just fall back asleep. Clenching his own arms reminded him of the human shaped lump engrained on his person. Small puffs of breath slightly hit his head from above. His head was so quiet. His heart calm. This time Dazai didn't burn.

A small pull on his hair made him turn to one side, letting himself gaze at the view before him. It was truly unfair that something so small could be this pretty. 

Almost as if sensing his train of thought, another slightly stronger pull tugged his head back.  He let himself be the picture of innocence, all big honeyed eyes and pouting lips. His own mirrored blues squinted slightly and the man under him scoffed. 

The next time safe hands touched him, they pulled him towards warm skies and melted ice. Softened lips met his chapped ones and they lingered there for a while. The time for frantic breaths and sharpened moves passed when they were young and fearful, and may return in scattered forms in the future, but not today.

Angled forms and the slide of lips and shared sighs were a dance form they’d perfected the second they locked eyes. A hand pulled on Dazai’s neck and he let go.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that there was one absolute in this universe. One absolute that transcended human perception of science and the world.

Where there was Chuuya there’d be Dazai.

Where there was a Dazai there’d be Chuuya.

And so, the clouds glide, the winds hollow, flowers awaken and sleep, opening their petals, and people go about their day, exchanging words for carbon dioxide and laughs for oxygen.

And so, two human beings entangle through the most intimate ways human beings can. Existing next to each other through memories and unknown futures.

One coin, two sides. 

One soul, two people.

A house merged with safety and turned into a home. A home moved and grew legs and a heart and a brain and red locks and cobalt eyes and strong arms and Dazai walked in and never left.

Odasaku would be proud.

Odasaku is proud.

-End-

I will be writing my analysis on some of the things that may be confusing:

Any time Dazai's eyes are mentioned as singular or plural is deliberate. I am referencing his time in the mafia and his obscured view of the world.

Any repetition of sentences or paragraphs is also deliberate an example being Odasaku's description and most importantly, the beginning and the ending of the fic.

I have not yet read Stormbringer, however I have severely spoiled myself. That is why I only briefly caught onto its story and focused more on its consequences.

‘Finding Chuuya is always easy. If you head towards whatever is making the loudest noise, he’ll be there.’ is a quote Dazai used in the light novels.

Promises are extremely important as it shows Dazai on the cusp of finding a reason to live.

In the prison Dazai communicated with morse code by controlling his heartbeat.

When walking in the prison I wrote Slip after he took his right step and his next step would've been his left, which was broken.

Dazai's unknown origins have convinced me that he at the very least was abused by Mori, if not his parents. When I write 'Close your eyes, brace for impact. A well-oiled machine of repetition. He’s used to that, after all the human body learns ways to cope everyday.', I mean it as him flinching and expecting the pain.

Stupid white animals and bloody betrayals means The Sheep, as Chuuya's jacket when he showed up in the prison was nearly identical to the one where he was 15.

It was not my intention to insinuate sex at the end but I don't see why it can't be, so when I say entangelment of limb in the most intimate way humans can, it is up to you to decide.

The end is closure on Dazai's end with Odasaku, but if you want and believe so also Odasaku's spirit.

The title 'The Sunset clashes on waves of Cobalt' Is just Chuuya. His hair clashing with his eyes. Blue is also Dazai's color.

Soukoku have unironically probably kept me alive in certain moments, so I've always wanted to write for them, however I needed it to be at least good. Hopefully this is that.

As for my other fic about them, I am planning on rewriting it as it's honestly so, in kinder words, satisfactory to the way I write now.

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot if I managed to get some reposts, comments or likes!

If you like this, I have written more stories that can be found on my main masterlist. Including: Soukoku, Moon knight, Formula 1 Lestappen, Landoscar with more to come. If it manages to spark your interest, please go support those as well!

[cheriecoke]

i miss when we first met

FEATURING. dazai osamu x f!reader & f!reader x chuuya nakahara — wc: 15.1k

SUMMARY: you'd always been in love with Dazai, but you started to doubt that he'd ever cared for you in return. chuuya, though, had never shown you anything but true affection.

CONTENTS: nsfw 18+ ONLY, pm!dazai, pm!reader, mostly dazai x reader but…, unhealthy relationship dynamics, voyeurism, cheating, manipulation, smut, degradation, guns, angst, dazai is very bad at expressing emotions, pet names, horrible communication, unrequited (?) love, the list goes on bc they’re in the port mafia just be warned

note: this took me like 4 months to finish & i am so so nervous to post it lmao. i wanted to write something different & this is very outside my comfort zone! :) but it's dazai's birthday so i figured i might as well share it today

You rolled onto your side away from Dazai, still breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

Beside you, he had shifted onto his forearms, moving up against the headboards to sit up straight. The covers fell off of him, revealing the marks that you’d left all over his body, the scars from a life lived in the mafia.

Under the red silk sheets, you were silent, your head settling into the pillow as you stared at him.

He’d deny it, but he was beautiful, a tempting, alluring creature that you couldn’t get enough of.

But you also knew Lucifer had once been God’s most beautiful angel, and it only made sense that Dazai Osamu would hold the same kind of exquisiteness.

Dazai closed his eyes, rolled his neck as he leaned back, stretching out all of the stiff muscles. He didn’t touch you again, kept a distance as he wiped the sweat that had dried on his forehead, the fluids that had stained the sheets between you.

He used to talk to you, after something so intimate. Used to hold you in his arms and trace your skin with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. He hadn’t always been cruel when he fucked you, hadn’t always put his own needs before yours.

Of course, Dazai had never loved you. That was something you were certain of in your very core. But he’d held at least some shred of respect for you before becoming the head of the Port Mafia. Now, you didn’t think he saw you as anything more than a means to an end.

It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that Dazai spoke to you minimally when you two weren’t alone, that everyone in the Port Mafia knew you were nothing more than the woman who slept in his bed.

It didn’t matter because you loved him. You’d stood by his side since the beginning, since he’d recruited Chuuya, since he’d lost Oda.

Since he’d killed Mori.

You’d been with him through all of it, seen every horrid side to him, and you’d never once wanted to escape. Dazai had his claws in you, and he had them in deep. The thought of being anywhere but with him had never crossed your mind.

“Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze as Dazai regarded you with cool, condescending eyes. He was peering at you from over his shoulder, picking his dark button-up off the floor. The skin on his back was red from scratches, the lines dragging through his taut skin.

“Did he?” you said, looking down at your nails. You hadn’t expected anything less. Akutagawa did everything in his power to get exaltation from Dazai. “I’m sure his report was thorough.”

Dazai’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, a darkened tint flashing in them. “That’s all you have to say?”

His voice was unamused, icy, and it reminded you that no matter how many times you crawled into his bed, let him use you however he wanted, he was still your boss. He was Dazai Osamu, the man whom everyone in Yokohama feared.

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.” Your gaze twisted away from him, unable to meet his hardened expression completely. “I was distracted. It was my fault entirely.”

Dazai made a noise in the back of his throat as he moved out of the bed. He sauntered across the room, so quietly and cat-like, and you buried yourself deeper into the mattress, wanting to sink into it completely.

“You’re lucky, then, that Akutagawa was able to deflect the bullets.” He began replacing the bandages that had slipped off of his face, covering his cheek with disgust.

He let you see him completely when it was just the two of you. It took every ounce of your self-control not to read into that, to wonder if it was just a habit leftover from when you were younger.

“I am lucky.”

Truthfully, you’d only hesitated for half of a second, momentarily lost in your own loop of suffering, and your opponent had gotten an edge on you. They’d shot at you, then the bomb, nearly prematurely blowing up the building.

“After decades of work, I would’ve thought you’d know better by now.” Dazai sighed wearily, like your presence irritated him. It probably did. “I’ll consider moving you. I’m sure there’s a place for you where you can’t get yourself killed if you fuck up.”

“Dazai—” you swallowed, a horrid tasting stinging your mouth as you remembered your time with him had come to an end. He was back to being Mori’s underling, the man who looked at the city like it was nothing but a chessboard. “Boss,” you remedied quickly, all too used to addressing him differently. It was difficult, sometimes, to recognize where Dazai began, and the Port Mafia’s boss ended. “It was a stupid error. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever done something like that before?”

Dazai hesitated momentarily, before tensing his shoulders. He didn’t answer your question. “Don’t let it happen again.” A warning was in his eyes when they met yours through the mirror. “I don’t have the patience to find a replacement for you, and Akutagawa’s too valuable an asset to lose to a seasoned professional’s careless mistake.”

You exhaled, looking back down at your hands. The ones that had already been stained in so much blood, wrought with crime and bad intent. “Understood.”

You finally climbed out of the bed, missing the warmth that it gave you, even though Dazai’s cold body always sucked it away. He laid so stiffly next to you most of the time. You remembered when he used to sleep with his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.

As you dressed, Dazai kept his eyes on his work, never paying you any attention. You felt discarded, useless, and you wanted to hate him, wanted to hate yourself for longing to wrap your arms around him, hug him from behind.

“I’ll send you with Chuuya tomorrow,” he said, scanning reports and assignments that he’d thrown aside lazily last night. “An easy assignment outside of Yokohama. Think you can manage that?”

“Just give me the job.” You snatched the paper out of Dazai’s hand, and he didn’t say a word, only watched as you perused it. It was, really, the simplest task he’d given you in the past few weeks. You’d felt like he’d been overworking you just to avoid you. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Dazai’s smile widened, sinister, and wicked. He brushed his hand delicately over your shoulder, against your neck before patting you on the head. “I trust you won’t let me down.”

Going against every sensible atom in your being, you smiled wearily. His minimal display of affection warmed you, a deep pang settling in your soul. “Have I ever?”

“No.” He held a sort of awed fascination, twisting a part of your hair between his fingers. “How lucky someone must be to be my greatest enemy. To get the kiss of death from an angel is not such a bad way to die.”

He held your cheek in his delicate fingers, and you were putty in his hands, wishing that his eyes would soften, even by a fraction. That his hand would cup around his cheek like he meant it.

Instead, he pulled away, and you felt cold, cold, cold, drowning in your own emptiness.

You scoffed, trying to regain some power in the situation. “I’m no angel.”

“Hm,” Dazai hummed, dropping his head in his hands, resuming a spot behind the desk, the deep red chair much too similar to the one in his office, the one that Mori had inherited from the previous boss. “Perhaps not to others.”

And you grew hot, feeling that, maybe, Dazai was giving you a compliment.

It was at times like these that you saw the semblance of your previous relationship. When you could tease him without feeling the weight of his superior rank looming over you. When you could kiss him without tasting venom. When you didn’t have to wonder if it would be appropriate to touch him, or if you should keep your distance.

You wanted to quit him. Really, you did.

He was a horrible, loathsome person.

You’d never be able to stop loving him.

“I could never be any sort of heavenly creature, Dazai. My spot in hell was sealed the moment I sided with the Devil.”

Dazai laughed, the sound raw and dry, so humorless. “I hope you don’t mean me. Flattery will get you nowhere,” he tsked, the tip of his tongue scratching against the back of his white teeth.  

You certainly hadn’t meant that as a compliment.

“Should I say goodbye before I leave?” you asked wryly, doubting that he’d even want to see you again. His image burned against the back of your eyelids, and you drank him in, hoping that when you died, his face would be the last thing you saw.

Dazai didn’t grace you with a simple yes or no. Instead, he glanced up briefly, his one eye exposed, mere centimeters of skin uncovered. “Goodbye.”

You nodded; lips pressed tightly together as you accepted the dismissal. With a sigh, you were out of the room, wondering why you hadn’t just showered before you left. Most of your clothes were in Dazai’s closet anyway.

You didn’t see him again before you left.

The assignment Dazai had given you was a few cities over, a task of infiltrating an enemy organization who’d gotten a little too close to the Mafia’s boundaries. It was simple enough, especially with Chuuya at your side, though the whole ordeal had you away from home for a weekend, and far too much time with your own thoughts.

Dazai had set the two of you up in a suite, one with two separate bedrooms and a shared living space. It was much more luxurious than you even needed, with a view overlooking the entire city and an extensive bar in the kitchen. The furniture was a deep, black leather, every accent dark in color.

It was conspicuous, but you’d grown too used to extravagance after being with Dazai. You allowed yourself to indulge in it.

A silly notion, really; the place you slept every night was much more lavish.

You scrubbed the blood off your face, your hands, and stared at yourself in the mirror without recognizing the person before you. The water at the bottom of the shower was a macabre shade, staining the tiles as it swirled down the drain.

Shivering, you tried to reconcile all of the things you’d done, shelve them away before you could wonder if all of it was really worth it. If Dazai was really worth it.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, your skin rubbed raw, Chuuya was sitting at the bar, a freshly cracked bottle of wine before him. His back was tense, muscles strained as he regarded you with weary eyes, the darker shade under them obvious and alarming.

“Took you long enough,” Chuuya snorted, pouring himself a glass. The bottle was aged and dark, the label faded. He must have brought it along with him; it certainly hadn’t come from the hotel. “I was getting bored.”

You made a face, taking the seat beside him. “Well, there was a lot of blood.” You reached over to snatch the bottle, pressing it to your lips before he could protest.

“Help yourself, then,” His expression was sour, but his acerbic tone held a hint of amusement. “Do you know how expensive that is?”

“No.” You shrugged, taking a sip. Money had stopped meaning anything to you a long time ago. “Should I care?” The liquid warmed your throat on the way down.

“Probably not. You’ve surely got enough cash behind you to buy me another one.”

“Right.” You snorted and wondered how much of that stuff you’d have to drink before you’d stop feeling a thing. Thoughts of the crumbling bond that you and Dazai shared wouldn’t leave you alone. “And you don’t?”

Chuuya laughed, twirling the glass in his gloved hand. There was a hardened edge to him that you didn’t like. Opposed to Dazai, Chuuya had always been much more open with you, more willing to share his thoughts. “Well, we can’t all be Dazai’s favorite. You’ve got the keys to the kingdom, my dear. Whatever belongs to the Mafia belongs to you too.”

“Favorite?” You spat out the word, darkening at the mention of Dazai, the man who never seemed to leave your brain. It was always Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. The youngest executive there had ever been, the one who’d become the head of the Port Mafia just a few years later.

You hated him. Wished you could burn the memory of that haunted man entirely.

“Hm?” Chuuya leaned forward like he hadn’t heard you.

A bitter flavor blossomed on your tongue when you thought of saying his name out loud. “I don’t want to talk about Dazai right now.”

You brought the bottle to your lips again; it was starting to feel lighter.

“Why?” Chuuya’s eyes dimmed as he stared at you, looking for something hidden in your irises. A secret that wouldn’t be there. You’d always been too easy to read. “Did something happen?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about Dazai, and you immediately think something’s wrong?”

He blinked. Hesitated. “Well, I spent my teenage years listening to you talk about him like a lovesick fool. The subsequent years watching him stare at you in the same way.” He took the bottle away from you, tipping his head back. “Something must be wrong.”

You felt a flush at your neck, the skin itching with sweat. It was cruel of Chuuya to allude to any emotions from Dazai, when you knew they weren’t there. “That’s not true.”

Chuuya sighed. “Isn’t it?”

Although his temper had always been much worse than yours, you felt the same sort of anger claw at your back. The urge to scream at him became almost insuppressible. “Dazai doesn’t care about me like that.” You flopped down on the bar, alcohol fuzzing the edges of your senses. It felt nice, warm.

Maybe being away from the Port Mafia was better for you than you thought.

“Don’t be stupid.” Chuuya’s eyes had narrowed when your head fell forward, his fist clenching around the bottle.

“Stupid?” You immediately sat up, blood rushing straight to your head. Who was Chuuya to come and tell you everything he thought he knew? It was laughable, really. “He doesn’t care, and I think I’d know. Fuck you, Chuuya.”

You slammed your fist down on the table, hurt. You didn’t understand why Chuuya would side with Dazai when he knew how much the situation troubled you. How often had you bared your soul to him, told him how Dazai’s aloofness had hurt you over and over again?

His eyes softened, an apology immediately leaving his lips. “I’m sorry—”

“Are you?” The words were vehement. Chuuya was shamelessly against your relationship with Dazai, always coming up with one reason or another to get you out of it. Now, it seemed, he was trying to defend it. “Dazai cares or he doesn’t. You can’t keep changing your mind based on the situation.”

“Dazai does care.” Chuuya said the words like they pained him to leave his mouth, each one dragging a dagger against his chin. “You think he’d keep you around if he didn’t?”

You did. You knew that you had use outside of Dazai’s feelings, just like Chuuya, just like Akutagawa. Just like every menial grunt who had a shred of value for the Mafia.

“He cares that I have value to him.” A sigh left your lips, and you sunk your chin onto your palm, feeling like nothing more than the dramatic woman in a Shakesperian tragedy. Really, you couldn’t remember when you’d become so pathetic. “What will become of me when I can’t sink a bullet into the skull of his enemies anymore?”

Chuuya frowned, the wrinkles deepening on his forehead. “No one can predict what Dazai will do.” He let you steal his half-full glass of wine, keeping the bottle safely tucked away from you. “Would it make much difference to you if we could?”

“I suppose not.” You’d grown tired, the subtle buzz of alcohol coming in quick on your empty stomach. “Nothing matters much anymore. I’ll never leave the Port Mafia.” Saying the words out loud made it more real than you’d intended, even though it was a fact that had sunk deep into your bones the day you’d met the dark-haired, suicidal bastard. “Why do I have to love him, Chuuya? Why can’t I love a good man?”

You thought, why can’t I love you instead, and left it unsaid. The words might have been too cruel. You knew the pain of unrequited emotions.

“Because you’re in the Port Mafia. Good men would know to stay away.” Chuuya drummed his fingers against the countertop before reaching out, contemplative. Though you remained unmoving in your seat, his hand still retracted before he touched you, as if burned. There was caution in his movements, every action calculated—Chuuya was usually the opposite, as intelligent as he was. “Besides. You’ve never tried to let Dazai go. You don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you said defensively, though even to your own ears, the statement was weak. Dazai was an addiction, and you’d go back to him time and time again. Even when, sometimes, you weren’t so sure there was anything good about him. “I just don’t know how. What would I do out there in the world without Dazai?” You laughed, amused. A normal life didn’t seem possible—you’d have no idea where to start.

Chuuya’s face pinched in disgust. “Take over the Port Mafia. Kill him and run it yourself.” He huffed, running a hand over his eyes, exhausted. “There’s a solution. If you really want to get rid of him.”

You blinked back at him. A moment passed; you’d forgotten he was looking for a response.

“I suspected as much.” His shoulders slumped, defeated, as you drew back in shame. “How long will you talk yourself into this endless cycle of torment? Dazai isn’t the same man that you fell in love with, and he never will be again.” He met your eyes, cold and guarded. “There’s nothing to be done about that. If you want Dazai so badly, put up with every single part of him. I’m tired of listening to the same grievances, time and time again.” 

Chuuya made to stand, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist lightly. He glared at you from over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to convey your apology sincerely. “You’re completely right. I’ve never tried to let Dazai go, and maybe I can.”

You didn’t give Chuuya time to formulate a response. Before he could understand what was happening, you leaned forward, catching him off guard, and planted your lips on his.

For one singular moment, Chuuya had kissed you back, tasting your mouth in its entirety, before he shoved you away, scrubbing his skin like he’d been burned.

“Don’t do that.” He had a hand in your face, scolding you like a child. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

You stared at him; his dark eyes were full of an emotion you had never seen before. “Why not? You said I should try to let him go.”

“Not by kissing me, fucking hell.” Chuuya hissed, his voice just above a whisper like someone else was listening in. Something vile had been unleashed in him as he gesticulated around wildly. “You’re Dazai’s.” He scoffed. “Do you think any smart man would do anything with you, knowing you sleep in that monster’s bed every night?”

You sniffed, sticking your jaw out. Maybe, you’d been wrong all this time. Chuuya was like everyone else, wasn’t he? Holding you at a distance because you cared for the wrong person.

“I’m not leaving the Mafia. I’m not leaving Dazai.” You reached across the table, grabbing one of his cold hands. “I just want to be someone else for once. To know what it’s like for someone to care about me so completely.”

“It’s not going to be with me.” Chuuya yanked his hand away, laughing mirthlessly. “I never thought you’d try to manipulate me like this. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”

Your eyes flashed, infuriated. Chuuya looked at you with some kind of betrayal, like he wasn’t the exact same way, like he wasn’t the same kind of vile person that you were. “I know you’re in love with me, Chuuya. I know you’ve looked at me since we were sixteen years old, wished so badly I would look at you the same way.”

His jaw clenched, the anger giving way to something else. “Don’t start.”

“You’ve wanted me all this time, haven’t you?” It was a genuine question; one you’d always been too scared to voice. Chuuya was the only person you considered to be a friend and knowing that he felt that way about you would ruin your friendship completely.

Though you had one sip too much of alcohol running through your veins, and you’d spent two days wondering how you could stop feeling a single thing for Dazai. Rationality had left you entirely.

Chuuya was silent, still watching you with hesitance.

“You’re the only person in the Mafia who really cares about me, aren’t you?” you said, softer, wondering if you could lure him in. Spring him into a trap you’d both be certain to regret in the morning. “You’re the one who talks to me about everything, who watches out for my well-being. Who’s never looked at me like I was anything but the prettiest girl in the world.”

And though Chuuya still didn’t trust your actions, his eyes had softened just a hair, his body releasing the tension. “You are.”

You smiled, but his compliment made you feel nothing but guilt. “Then why won’t you let me kiss you, Chuuya?”

“Because.” He scraped a hand over his face, breathing heavily like it was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist you “Dazai will kill me, you understand? He’ll kill you.”

“Wouldn’t you at least like to know?” You invaded his personal space. Each word you spoke cracked him a little bit more. “I know you’ve imagined me spread out before you, entirely exposed to you. How I’d look with my hips arching off the bed, crying out your name—”

“Stop it.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You felt like you were losing your mind. Something had cracked in you, and you couldn’t come back from it. Things would never go back to the way they were after those careless words had been tossed into the world. “You’ve always wanted me, so why, when I’m giving myself to you completely, won’t you accept?”

Chuuya swallowed. His voice had grown thick with desire. He raked his eyes over you cautiously. “You’re asking a lot from me, baby.” He held your cheek, grazing the bone in the gentle way that Dazai had forgotten. “Believe me, I want to. But you’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I haven’t,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. The touch of another person felt so nice against your icy skin. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk.” You weren’t—the alcohol had just made you brave enough to ask. “Please, Chuuya.”

He swallowed thickly. “He’ll kill me.”

“And he’ll kill me. Just as you said.” You met his eyes completely, wondering why you couldn’t care for this man in the same way, why his lips weren’t as alluring as Dazai’s, why his voice didn’t set a blaze deep in your stomach. “Do you really care whether Dazai thinks of me as his?”

His cheeks were flushed, eyebrows pinched, and you spotted the moment he began to draw back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t.”

Then, you panicked, eyes becoming glassy as he released you, turning to retreat back to his bedroom, and you scrambled for another way, a way to bring him back to you.

“Chuuya, please,” you said, desperation in every syllable, and when he turned around, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. “I just want to know what it’s like with a person who loves me. Can’t you give me that?”

That was it. That was all you had to say. When Chuuya bowed his head, you knew he’d given in.

“Why do you think I can give you what he can’t?” Chuuya’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not that kind of man. I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for.”

“No,” you said. “You’re not that kind of man. You’re Chuuya. The only person that’s always been there for me.”

He hesitated, momentarily, before sweeping you into his arms, his touch the softest you’d ever felt. “Are you certain that you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if Dazai kills me.” Chuuya spoke into your mouth, carving the words into your aching heart. “You were always going to be the death of me, anyway.”

His lips were upon you again, kissing you with the hunger of a starved man, and you gave him back as much as you could, which was the despair of a lonely woman. His touch was one of loving hands as guided you back into the bedroom tenderly.

When your back hit the bed, he asked if you were okay, asked if everything was comfortable. The concern in his eyes had rarely been seen in Dazai’s own—you couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken care of you first.

“I’m fine, Chuuya,” you promised again and again, and you smiled, caressing the soft skin of his jaw.

His lips pulled back in return, and then your shirt was thrown over your head, carelessly tossed towards the corner of the room. Though, no matter how many articles of clothing you lost, the necklace that Dazai had given you still rested against your collarbone.

You cupped your palm around it, trying to avert Chuuya’s gaze as he stared down at the precious metal, something conflicting in his cool irises.

“It’s okay,” you said, doing your best to distract him. You wouldn’t take the necklace off. It didn’t matter how much Dazai had hurt you; you needed the reminder of the absolute infidelity you were committing. “Keep going.”

Feeling more anxious than you had before, you kissed Chuuya, trying to dispel the bile that gathered in the back of your throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chuuya said, kissing every inch of your face, his hands hovering over your chest. “I could look at you forever, and it wouldn’t be long enough.”

Chuuya’s sentiments warmed you, but words weren’t enough. You pulled his vest off, then the buttoned-shirt and every other intricate article of clothing he wore.

It felt wrong. His height was wrong. His skin felt too warm under your palm.

“When did you fall in love with me?” you asked, breathing heavily. Desire pooled in your abdomen against your will, your own heart betraying you. Still, it was nothing more than the most basic reaction of human nature, raw and primal, unaffected by the organ that was jailed within your ribcage.

Chuuya was surprised by the question, and he paused, his face just inches above your stomach. “I think I realized when I was seventeen.” He huffed out a laugh, inhaling your perfume. “It was the first time I saw Dazai kiss you. I thought I was going to be sick.” He continued kissing down your body, sliding your pants past your hips. “I’d always wanted you. I guess I just didn’t realize until then.”

You exhaled, feeling tears spring to the corners of your eyes, ones you suppressed.

Dazai had given you flowers that day. You remembered how they smelled, the rainy spring breeze. The way the sun reflected in his brown irises, melting them into candied honey that brightened his entire complexion.

“Then take me, Chuuya. If you’ve wanted me for so long, then fuck me like you mean it.”

His dark eyes flashed, but his gentle caresses never turned rough, never sped through a single moment you had together. You smiled, your expression peaceful and open when he finally slid your panties off, your cunt throbbing as his finger brushed against your swollen clit.

Chuuya took his time with you, singing praises that you hadn’t heard in a long time, and you came once around his slender fingers, the ones that were much less skilled at knowing every place you enjoyed being touched.

When he finally sunk inside you, you still felt empty, unfulfilled. You tried to lose yourself in his mouth, in the taste of wine and Chuuya, and dug your fingers into his back.

“Feel so good around me, baby.” Chuuya whispered into your skin, imprinting the words into your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks, though he wanted to, wanted to claim you as his own. “Taking me so well.”

You tugged on his hair as he kissed down your collarbone, between your breasts, his breath hot and heavy. Though you cried out, you kept your voice quiet, still fearful that someone might hear, might know exactly what kind of betrayal you’d committed.

Chuuya thrust into you slowly, so much gentler than Dazai, hitting the spot deep inside of you that had you arching off the bed. “Fuck,” he said, choking on his own breath. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” He was full of desperation, his hands digging into your hips.

“Chuuya,” you said, holding his head between your palms.

He gave you the brightest smile in return, sad and meaningful. “I know. I can feel you squeezing me tighter. Let go for me, doll.”

His hair was just as soft, but it wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t short enough. His kiss didn’t feel the same, and you felt tears blurring your vision as you realized you’d never wanted him, you only wanted Dazai, and this was all wrong.

Still, you came around him, as he was buried deep inside you, but his name never left your lips, not even as a breathy whisper, because the one that was sitting there was Osamu.

And when he pulled out of you, you stroked him with practiced laziness, moving your hands in the way you knew Dazai liked, even though Chuuya felt so much different in your palm.

Chuuya kissed you as warmth flooded into your hand, and then he was breathing heavily, collapsing onto the bed next to you. He kissed you over and over, holding you tight, and you smiled, satisfied, because at the least, you knew this was what love felt like.

You’d never get it from the man you wanted, so you’d take it from Chuuya, even if it made you feel rotten inside.

The room smelled like sex and betrayal, and Chuuya took care of you, carried you out of the bed for a bath, and gently rinsed away the sweat and grime.

You were silent for most of the time, only reassuring him when he asked if you were alright.

For the first time, maybe you were. You imagined a future where you could learn to love Chuuya, a future where you were finally able to rid yourself of Dazai and start over again.

But it was nothing more than a delusion, a dream that would never happen. Dazai was a part of your soul. You knew that and Chuuya knew that, even as he closed his eyes next to you, the woman that would never give her love to anyone else. Your heart beat and bled for Dazai Osamu, every inch of your being meant for him. It would kill you to let him go, and if he died, you’d die right alongside him.

You turned away from Chuuya, burying your face in your hands, completely unaware that he’d left the bed to sleep in the other room.

You didn’t talk to Chuuya the next morning, not when you took a private car back to Yokohama, not when you stepped foot back onto the Mafia headquarters. Things between you had soured, just as you’d suspected, and you didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t think there was any way to go back from what had happened.

Higuchi was waiting for the two of you when you walked in the door, her blazer perfectly pressed, and her shirt tucked. She greeted you with a half-smile—gesturing towards the stairs. “The boss wants to see all of us for a meeting. He said you two would be arriving at this time.”

You nodded, and Chuuya scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand his superhuman ability to know what’s happening all of the time.”

Swallowing, you followed Higuchi, trying not to hear the foreboding nature of Chuuya’s statement.

Most high-ranking Mafia members were in attendance, with Dazai at the head of the table, the dark wooden chair beside him eerily empty and welcoming. You took a seat, and Dazai’s eyes ran over you, smoothly and hastily, before a small smile appeared on his features. “No injuries?” he said, and though his tone was professional, you could hear the slightest bit of concern.

“None,” you said, and something in your voice cracked, ever so slightly.

You were such a fool. You’d never be able to hide something like this from Dazai.

He eyed you suspiciously, before sliding his glance over to Chuuya, who was as cool as usual. His face was shadowed by his hat, hiding any evidence of a sleepless night.

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, tucking his palm into his hand. “Debrief.”

Your partner gave Dazai every last detail, summarizing as best he could, and sliding in the occasional sarcastic remark as he leaned back casually in the chair. Dazai listened with boredom in his expression, drumming his fingers against the table until Chuuya’s monologue was complete.

He turned to Akutagawa, who bowed his head an immediately launched into his own assignment.

You blinked—you hadn’t realized that Akutagawa’s squad had been sent elsewhere. It made no sense for Dazai to send you with Chuuya when your own division had a separate mission.

The meeting wrapped up quickly, and the members scattered, going their own separate ways for the afternoon. Chuuya refused to meet your eye as he got up from the table, one of the last to leave the room.

As you stood, Dazai closed a hand around your wrist, his thumb brushing your pulse.

“Was the hotel alright?” he asked, his head titled curiously. “You look tired.”

You took a sharp breath.

Fuck.

“It was fine, Osamu,” you said, and when his name slipped easily from your tongue, something in him changed. He loosened the hand on your wrist before releasing it entirely, the bandaged palm falling into his lap. “Thank you.”

Dazai nodded, turning away from you, and you’d forgotten that there were still other people in the room. Akutagawa, who lingered with morbid curiosity, and his sister, who had always sort of pitied you for your tumultuous relationship, bore witness to the brief interaction.

Behind them, Chuuya stood tense, his back straight as he crossed the threshold, sparing you only a glimpse before exiting into the darkened hallway.  

“Alright,” Dazai said in a hushed voice, his face schooled back into the usual, guarded expression. “I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t much of a response, and he didn’t elaborate, keeping his steely eyes ahead as some low-ranking members trudged in for a meeting with their boss. He’d be busy all afternoon, it seemed.

You swallowed, and left, knowing that it was fruitless to try and keep a secret from him.

Chuuya waited for you outside, his arms crossed as he regarded you with a contempt that hadn’t been there before, such a contrast to the loving man you had seen last night. “This changes everything, you know?”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Chuuya.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I was the fool. I made my choice.” Chuuya sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I meant what I said, though. Yesterday. It was all true, and if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

You felt a chasm open in your chest, and you wished the floor would’ve swallowed you whole. You were losing everyone, it seemed, and maybe, Dazai really did have a point with his talk about suicide.

When you stepped into the bedroom, Dazai was sitting on the edge of the bed, the setting sun casting a shadow of his own reflection. He was twirling a pistol around his pointed finger, staring at the wall with blank eyes.

You shut the door quietly, your hands shaking against the golden knob.

Though you hadn’t made a sound when you walked through the door, Dazai’s gaze was on you immediately, sensing your entrance.

You’d never been able to slip past him.

“You’re back early.” Those were the first words that came to your mind, your voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was regarding you with disdain, his jaw set coolly. His hair turned bronze in the evening rays, loose strands scraping against the bandages.

“I am.” His jaw clenched, examining you with a singular, dark eye. You felt exposed under his gaze, laid bare for him to see no matter how much you shrouded yourself with. “You sound like you’re unhappy to see me.”

Dazai ran his finger along the trigger like he’d never held such a weapon before, the gun becoming an object of morbid fascination. 

You exhaled. There was so much space between you, a distance you weren’t sure you’d ever cross again. Though you thought you knew Dazai better than anyone, in that moment, he was unreadable—a chapter of pages that had been torn out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, standing tall. Despite your nerves, you were fixated on Dazai, always drawn to him like a moth to a flame, desperate to uncover the very thing that could kill you. “I miss you every time we’re apart. You’re no stranger to my feelings.”

You could offer him that, at the very least. An undeniable truth before everything between you shattered.

Dazai stood, his dark coat billowing out behind him as he finally came to face you, suddenly seeming much taller than you remembered. And with one look, you knew that he knew. He’d always been too smart for his own good.

“I’m not certain of that any longer,” he laughed, though it was a bitter sound that clawed its way up his throat. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, instead.” Dazai stood before you with a smile that was so sweet it was almost sinister. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you did?”

You weren’t sure which one of you would blink first, caught in some deadly staring contest. Most people would’ve surrendered to him by now.

 “Why?” you jutted your chin out, refusing to give in to him in any way. If you were going to die, and you were, you would make sure Dazai knew everything you’d never told him. “You already know.”

“No.” He poked the gun into your cheek, right beneath the sharp bone. He’d clicked the safety off moments before. “I want to hear you say it. You betrayed me.”

When you refused to say a word, Dazai hissed and cocked the gun. He pressed it to your temple, the metal cold against your delicate skin.

“Say it.”

You sniffed. He wasn’t giving in, and instead, stood there silently, unmoving until you finally caved. There was something about the color of his eyes. No matter how much they hardened, you still remembered the young man he used to be. The one who wasn’t quite so cold, who picked you flowers, even with blood dripping down his arm.

“Fine.” You narrowed your eyes. “I fucked Chuuya.”

Dazai blinked. Then, he started laughing. Crazily, maniacally. You saw too much of your old boss in him that it made you sick.

“Shameless.” Dazai took a step back and dropped the gun to his side.

“What?” you sneered, pressing yourself up against him, refusing to be intimidated by the man that had been yours for years. “Should I be ashamed?”

Dazai’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “Yes,” he said, fists curling at his sides. “After everything I’ve done for you.” Dazai grew quieter, flicking a strand of hair out of your face. “Do you feel no remorse?”

“You can’t be serious. What have you done for me, Dazai?” You grew still, grabbing his wrist before he could touch you again. “You’re not upset I was with another man; you’re just upset that it was Chuuya.”

You poked him in the chest, a hot stream of air exhaling through your nose.

“I gave you everything, didn’t I?” The two of you spoke at each other, avoiding the answers, never acknowledging what the other had to say. Around and around you went, an endless circle until one of you finally conceded. “I’ve given you the world, and you still wanted more.” Dazai finally broke free of your loose grasp, stroking your cheek. “What can Chuuya give you that I can’t? I ask for nothing but honesty.”

There was no jealousy in the tone, no sorrow; it was the most genuine question he’d asked you in months. The inquiry of a man who’d lost sight of himself in the past few years, and who’d somehow, over time, forgotten what it meant to care for another.

“You gave me nothing,” you said, but somewhere along the way, your cheeks had grown wet. You’d been struck by the sudden affection in his voice, the softness harsher than a slap to the face.

He was a horrible man, the worst kind of man. Yet, you couldn’t imagine a life without him, a world where you existed alone.

The truth rested at the edge of your tongue. It wouldn’t solve much, your affection for him never had solved much, but at least he would understand.

“This was never about wanting more. I never wanted Chuuya. You’re a fool if you think that.”

Dazai was silent. You pressed on.

“I wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I do everything you ask.” You were breathing heavily, big gulping breaths that contained minimal oxygen. “I asked for nothing in return. Nothing but for you to care about me, and you never did.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai laughed humorlessly.

You ignored him, your confession leaving on one heavy breath, a string of words incomprehensible to your ears. “But Chuuya loves me. He always has, and he made certain I knew that.” You paused, averting your eyes. The entire city could be seen from the window over his shoulder. “He told me all of that, and you know what I thought the whole time?”

Dazai scowled.

“I wished that he was you instead. I wanted it to be you so badly, I wanted it to be you saying those things to me, kissing me like I was the most important thing in the world.” You took his wrist again, pressing the gun back to your temple. The cool metal was almost soothing against your skin. “Please, Dazai. Give me this one last thing. I’m begging you to kill me. I can’t take this any longer.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

“I want it to be you. I’ve never wanted to die at anyone’s hands but your own.” His hand felt just as it always had in your palm, his fingers much longer, but his skin so soft. It was almost comforting, how familiar he was, and you longed to be a part of him, to bury yourself deep within him and wear his skin as your own.

Dazai’s expression twitched, and you smiled at him, the taste of salty tears spilling into your mouth.

As you closed your eyes, you prepared for the noise, hoping your blood splattered on Dazai’s coat and stained it, the proof of your existence inerasable. You hoped that Dazai would grow to regret it, would realize that your love for him was close to unconditional.

But the violence never came. The cool metal fell away from your skin, and when you opened your eyes again, Dazai’s shoulders had slumped, the very image of defeat.

“Do you honestly think I can bring myself to kill you?”

“What’s the matter?” you asked, blinking your eyes open. You reached for the gun again, but he drew back, as if stung. “Afraid to lose your best assassin?”

“No.” Dazai’s eyes were hard, his frown set deep into his face. “I’m afraid to lose the woman I love. The most important person in the world to me.”

You stared. Blinked. Then, the worst kind of emotion washed over you.

You swallowed over and over, trying to get the bile out of your throat. You’d wanted to be done, wanted to escape. And yet—

“Don’t say that.” you shook your head, backing away as Dazai inched closer, too close and you felt yourself getting sucked back in, remembering that you’d loved him for years, and you’d never love anyone else. “Fuck you, Dazai. Stop toying with me, and just kill me."

“I love you. I thought you knew that my darling angel.”

You were crying harder, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you. You don’t care about me.”

“No?” Dazai had grabbed your wrist again, but it was so soft. “I thought you were smarter than that. Did you think you were partnered with Akutagawa at random, and not for the sole reason that I knew he’d do everything in his power to protect you? Did you think I moved your seat next to me at meetings because you were nothing more than my stupid whore? Bought you everything you ever wanted because I couldn’t stand you?”

“Yes,” you said, sniffing, feeling yourself melt where he touched you, itching to reach up and pull the bandages off his face, see the beautiful features beneath them that he hid from the world. “You don’t care about me."

“I do care,” he said, fingers grazing your chin. “I’ve killed for you. I took over the Port Mafia so I could give you everything you wanted. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“Because I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this. I wanted you, Dazai Osamu. That was all.”

Dazai frowned, and then he bowed his head, kissed your neck, then around your earlobe, and it was the softest you’d ever felt in your entire life, a gentleness you hadn’t known he was capable of. When his hands snaked around your stomach, pulling you back against him, you were lost in his adoration.

“You never said anything,” he said, kissing your shoulder, breaking the tension in the muscles. You were his, in every lifetime, you’d be his. “I thought you were… happy?”

“How could you think that? I’m not happy, Dazai. I’ve never been less happy.”

“Not even when I tell you that I love you?” he kissed your knuckles.

“Do you love me enough to be a better man? Do you love me enough to let me sleep in your bed and see your whole heart instead of the fragmented pieces that you sliced up just to hide?”

“Yes.” The word was resounding, resolute. “I love you enough to forgive you.”

You held him at a distance, lips falling apart easily. “But I don’t want to forgive you.”

“You will.” Dazai smiled, that irritatingly knowing smile of his that you’d fallen for in the first place. “You will because I mean it this time.”

“You never apologized,” you looked away, trying to find the strength to move. You were enraptured, in every fiber of his being. “You never will. You never do.”

“I never knew anything was wrong,” he frowned, and it wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, and you had him so close that you just wanted to forget anything had ever changed. “How was I to fix it if you never told me?”

His words were full of poison, but his voice was so soft you couldn’t help but fall back into him. Perhaps, you should’ve said something. Maybe your actions had never been enough.

“How long have I been at your side, spent hours listening to your every word, even when they didn’t make sense to me? You should’ve known, Dazai. I shouldn’t have to tell you something like that.” Your words were losing their bite, and his lips quirked up, knowing that you were slowly coming back to him, clearing you of the sins you had committed.

He was hesitant, thoughtful, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And perhaps, that was the final straw in your resistance, his gentle kiss enough to set your soul on fire.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Dazai said, his lips ghosting over yours, handing over the apology like a gift. “Won’t you give me a chance to fix it now?” It felt like a bad idea. Dazai wasn’t deserving of any more chances; you’d already given him years of second chances, had always given him the benefit of the doubt.

“You expect me to believe you’ll let us off scot-free?” you said, your face deadly close to Dazai’s. “What about Chuuya? Will you kill him in my place.”

“You’ve got me in your hand, love. If you want me to punish Chuuya, just say the word. I’ll kill him if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. That was the farthest thing from what you wanted, but you worried that if you sounded too enthusiastic, he might just follow through with it.

Instead, you pulled him to you, grabbing the dark tie that he wore around his neck. He grinned into your lips, his saccharine smile seeming much too deadly to be all that sweet. “Do you honestly think I believe a word that you’re saying?”

“You want to,” Dazai said, curling his hand around your jaw, his fingers brushing your ear. “That’s what matters the most.” He kissed your lips, and you could taste the difference, all the love he poured into it this time. It wasn’t like kissing a statue. “It’s all true, anyway.”

You broke away, breathing. “I won’t do this anymore, Dazai.” You finally had his hand in your own, placing the gun back to your temple. “You’re not the man you once were, and you’ll never be him again.” The smile that graced your lips was sad, though it was knowing. Things were always going to end this way.

Dazai’s face wrinkled as he tried to decipher all the words you’d never spoken. “I’m not the same man, that’s true, but my affection for you has never died.” He cupped his other hand around your cheek, hesitantly keeping the gun to your temple, squinting with his head bent.

“You’re the leader of the Port Mafia, and such a ruthless man wouldn’t let a betrayal go unscathed.”

There was a wave of silence while the two of you stared at one another, sifting through the situation with hardness in your jaws, the tension palpable within the air. Dazai straightened, clarity in his irises as a smooth smile burned onto his lips.

“Is that what you want?” he said innocently. “You want to be punished for your insurrections?”

Your mouth grew dry, but you held your ground firmly, swallowing back all the uncertainty. Perhaps you didn’t want to die. Perhaps you did. You just hated the gaping hole inside of you that never seemed to leave. “I want you to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Dazai laughed, then the hilt of the gun was against your temple once more. He held your chin steady between his forefinger and thumb, regarding you with thinly veiled disgust. “You’ve never wanted that before. Not when I asked you to die alongside me, to follow me far into the afterlife.” He sighed, releasing your chin before cocking the gun. “This isn’t about death at all.”

“What—”

“You want me to claim you, is that it?” He clicked his tongue before leaning forward, sneering. “Perhaps it’s that other way around. You want everyone in the Mafia to know I belong to you, hm?’

You blinked, though you began to feel weak in the knees, the eyes that you knew so well suddenly intimidating. “I never said—” but even then, your voice wavered, unsteady and uncertain of the immediate heat that had swirled under your skin.

Dazai’s mouth curled, a gruesome smile there. “I know you better than anyone. I’ve always known exactly what you want. Even though I shouldn’t forgive you, I can’t help myself.”

You swallowed, and Dazai had taken a step forward, pushing you with him, the gun still swaying at your temple, even when the backs of your thighs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he was on top of you, his finger caressing the trigger as he collapsed.

Dazai had never scared you, not even when he was a child you’d barely known, the teenager shaped in Mori’s image. Though, now, the unreadable expression on his face was alarming you, and you wondered if all this time, you should’ve been fearful.

Still, even with your underlying hesitance, you felt a wave of desire crash over you at the sheer need in his eyes. It wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with, but there was something else there. Maybe it was the love you’d just never noticed.

“Osamu,” you said in a quiet voice, not afraid, but not confident either. Your finger brushed the point on his wrist—it was the same heartbeat you’d always recognized.

“What?” he said, taunting you menacingly as he towered above you. “You were so bold just a second ago? What happened, darling?”

Unable to do anything but blink back at him, Dazai brought his thumb to your lips, brushing it across the plump skin before dipping it into your mouth.

Unprepared, you nearly choked, eyes blown wide as you stared back at him. Though, there was a command within his eyes, and you obliged, sucking as you watched the saliva drip down to his palm. Dazai pulled it away from your mouth with an obscene pop, giving you a sweet smile from his position above you.

Despite your humiliation, you shifted your hips on the bed, bringing your thighs together to provide you with a fraction of relief. Dazai’s eyes flashed at the movement, his smirk widening with an amusement.

“You’re nothing more than a dumb slut, aren’t you?” Dazai’s hand ghosted of your stomach, settling on the inside of your thigh momentarily. You ached with need, swallowing your pride and any demands that you could make of him. “Had Chuuya all to yourself this weekend, and still expect me to fuck you senseless.”

Your brow furrowed, and you opened your mouth before shutting it, lips still covered in your own spit. “Osamu,” you began, attempting to diffuse the situation, to explain that what had transpired between you and Chuuya meant nothing, but he never gave you the opportunity. “It wasn’t—”

Dazai’s gaze hardened, the adoration disappearing the moment you dared to speak. His fingers deftly wrapped around your throat, thrusting you into the mattress with enough force to quiet you entirely. “Shut up. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll ask. Understand?”

You could do nothing but nod, hating yourself for the ache that had grown more and more intense in your core, desperate for some sort of contact. Dazai, distracted with his own task of tearing your top off, had failed to notice the breathing that had grown heavier, the flush of heat that spread on every inch of your body.

His slender fingers finally removed the confining pants, a task he did skillfully with one hand still wrapped around your throat. Then, his fingers were against your aching cunt, and you twitched, letting out a heavy sound from the singular movement. You could feel yourself pulsing against nothing, desperate for his fingers between your legs.

“Pathetic,” he said, his fingers lazily dipping through your folds over your underwear. “I’ve barely touched you. How can you be this fucking wet?”

“Please,” you said quietly, your own hand aching to take over, if only to provide yourself that relief that he refused to give you. Every time you shifted into his hand, he brought it away, taunting you with the release you so craved.

“Please?” Dazai was mocking, cruel, every bit of the person people expected him to be. The one he never had been with you, not until recently. “You’re nothing more than a greedy little whore. Must have been why you fucked Chuuya without a second thought, huh?”

You were silent, staring him down with a clenched jaw. Your brain was twisting, betraying you, turning into empty cells within your skull, and you weren’t sure how to handle the accumulation of emotions that you felt for the man before you, the one who’s love had always been purposeful and merciless.

“Well?” he said, tightening a hand to close off the air to your lungs, trapping you with his strength. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and when your words sounded choked, when you clawed at his wrist, he loosened his grip just a hair, the only indication that the man you loved was in there at all. Still, your hips acted of their own accord, shifting further into his hand. “I’m sorry, Osamu, I am.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he finally slipped his fingers under your panties, rubbing your aching clit. “I wanted you; I needed you and you were never there, but Chuuya was, and—”

You were a stammering mess of desperation and regret, feeling unglued under Dazai’s hands, like the words you’d been meaning to say could finally come out. He was the only one who’d ever listened to you completely, who you’d felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. Yet, it had been so long since you’d let yourself be open with him, and now that the opportunity arose, you were too weak to deny it.

“I was always here,” Dazai said harshly, and you were almost certain that his anger was genuine, the tone breaking in his voice a result of true sadness. “You never came to me, and I thought that’s how you wanted it to be.” His fingers sunk into you, and you threw your head back into the pillow, moaning sinfully with the lewd sound of him sinking in and out of you, the wetness collecting with every movement.

“You never showed me you cared,” you cried out, certain that there were tears streaming down your cheeks, and you should’ve been humiliated. It was humiliating—the way you were clothed in nothing, crying as Dazai laughed at you, taking full control over your body. How he could’ve done anything to you in that moment, and you would’ve let him, because that was just how much you wanted him.

“And Chuuya was the solution?” He grabbed your cheeks with the hand that had once been around your throat, pinching them to make you look at him. “You going to pass yourself around the rest of the Mafia, sweetheart? Who’ll get a taste of you next? I’m not so certain even Akutagawa would pass up the opportunity.”

His words were senseless, meant to hurt you, and you still couldn’t stand the anguish that was in his eyes.

“No,” you said, and you leaned up, wanting so badly for his lips to be on yours, to feel some semblance of the connection that you’d always had with him. “I wouldn’t, Dazai, I’m yours.” You choked on the sounds of your own moans, your thighs shaking with every change in pressure. “I’m yours. Please, I need you.”

You were certain there were marks on your neck from his fingertips, and Dazai ghosted his mouth along the delicate skin there, biting at the soreness from before. You jerked, digging your nails into his back as you drew closer and closer to your climax.

“Don’t make demands.” Dazai leaned back, and you missed the closeness, the sharp scent of him lingering in your space. “Chuuya hasn’t been a part of this conversation yet. Should we get him up here? I hadn’t considered what to do with him, but this might suffice.”

Dazed and drunk on the feeling of his hands all over you, it took you a moment to process what he was saying. His hand was already swiping through his phone, picking the number of the man that you least wanted to see.

“No, Osamu, don’t—” you cried out, and yet, you made no move to stop him. Instead, you remained pliant on the bed as he sunk another finger into you, his thumb moving in agonizing circles against your clit.  He tucked the cellphone under his chin, smiling at you maliciously, controlling you with every blink of his lashes.

You had always had trouble resisting him. Now was no different.

Chuuya answered as you released another moan, and Dazai was grinning wickedly, as if some larger scheme had finally come together, the culmination of everything he was plotting. “Boss?”

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, and you flinched, locking gazes with his deep brown irises, the color so alluring and beautiful, a shade that had darkened with each misfortune you’d endured together. You hated him, you did, but there was a fine line between the two, and your love for him would die with you, would transcend whatever simple rules the afterlife placed on Earth. “How quickly can you make it up here?”

You could hear the hesitation on the other side; Chuuya didn’t say anything for a moment.

“A couple minutes, I think. I haven’t left the building.”

“I’ll give you a couple minutes then.” Dazai’s words were clipped as he hung up the phone, throwing it to the arm chair a few feet away from the bed.

His attention was back on you completely as you let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure before Chuuya came into the room. Though it was so hard when the pools in his irises were pulling you deeper, locking you into a heaven that you’d never been able to reach.

Dazai pulled away briefly, his soaking fingers leaving your body to alleviate his cock from the confines of his dark pants, hovering before you.

You swallowed, not able to remember the last time your desire for him ached this badly. Your eyes trained on the very part of him that you wanted inside of you, the tip flushed so beautifully. There was nothing on your mind but him, how you wanted every part of him, even if it meant enduring misery after misery, and Chuuya was right—if you were to love Dazai, you needed to love every part of him, even when it seemed impossible.

A whine escaped you and you were reaching out to him, knowing he’d never let you live down your humiliation, but the future was not a part of your logical thinking, not now. “Want you inside me.”

“Surely you can hold off for a few minutes,” Dazai said, though the way his toned chest pressed to your own, and how he kissed your face with a tenderness you’d forgotten made it nearly impossible for you to refrain. “So desperate for my cock.”

You wanted to touch yourself—you would’ve, had you not been so nervous of the fact that Chuuya could come in at any minute.

“Tell him to leave,” you said, dragging your fingers through his hair, finally kissing him like you’d been wanting to, and the sound was sinful, heavy with lust as you forced a taste into his mouth, wishing every part of him was a part of you too. “I don’t want him or anyone else, just you, I promise—” 

Dazai cut you off and ignored your pleas; he smiled against your lips, though it was anything but kind. “I think he’ll enjoy seeing you like this, won’t he? You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you when you’re fucked properly.” He kissed his way down your chest, resting his face just above your breasts. “I bet Chuuya didn’t see this side of you, did he?” Dazai licked a circle around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. “I’ve done nothing but call you names and you’re dripping all over the sheets.”

You shook your head, feeling pained by how badly you wanted release.

“Of course not.” Dazai sat back up like he could sense Chuuya approaching from the other side of the door, his presence bold and detectible. “He’s forgotten what’s mine, after all.” He smiled at you once more, kissing you with a kind of love that only he could portray, the kind that was nowhere close to innocent. “Don’t cum until I tell you to. Be good for me, okay?”

Dazai had always known what to say to you, even when your relationship was falling apart, even when you hated him more than you loved him. His words could be so tender, the praise melted in with the unkind quips of his tongue. It was the gentlest tone he’d used since your clothes had come off, and you couldn’t help but melt under him, nodding like you’d give him anything he asked of you.

Of course you would.

Dazai traced your features delicately, grinning maniacally, ears attuned to the quiet that broke from the footsteps approaching. His cock was lined up against your dripping hole, and it took every ounce of restraint not to plant yourself on it, trying so hard to please him, the sinful man who held too much power over you.

“You’re so pretty like this, aren’t you? My beautiful little whore, always willing to take whatever I give you.”

“’Samu,” you babbled, blinking away the tears as you latched onto him, wishing you could spare yourself the humiliation, but too drunk on him to care. He shifted you forward, taking your thighs in his hands and placing them around his waist. “I can’t take it all at once—”

“You’ve done it before. Do it again.” He growled, squeezing your throat once more in one smooth motion, thrusting into you. And though you had doubted how prepared you were, he slid into you easily, already so loose and pliant from his fingers. “See? Never forgot the shape of me, sweetheart. Even after you’ve been with another man.”

You let out a choked moan as Chuuya walked into the room, lost in the ache and the burn and the pleasure that came with loving and fucking Dazai.

There was one singular pass of silence before Chuuya spoke, letting the door shut with a quiet click on the hinge. “Boss—” Chuuya was hesitant, though his eyes were immediately drawn to you, raking over your blissed-out form. “You said to—” His hand was still on the knob, though he was distracted, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, ashamed but so full of want that it ached.

“Come in, Chuuya,” Dazai said sharply, his words solid and commanding, and you couldn’t help it when you clenched around him, drawing him further into you with nails scraping down his back. “We should discuss something.”

“Well, can we talk about it when you’re not in the middle of fucking your girl?” Chuuya asked, swallowing down the desire he hid so poorly. His cheeks had flushed, words just on the edge of stumbling and slurring together. “Another time, maybe.”

“This is the perfect time, actually,” Dazai stopped moving, already breathing heavily above you as you stared, whined, needing so badly for him to stop teasing you. “Besides,” his eyes drifted knowingly to Chuuya’s obvious erection as he laughed darkly. “I don’t think you mind so much.”

Dazai pulled back painfully slowly before sinking into you with a quicker thrust, your back arching off the mattress to catch even more of him inside of you. A barely noticeable sweat had broken against his hairline, and you stared at him, mouth slightly agape in awe at the boss of the Port Mafia, the one you somehow had wrapped around your little finger.

Your breathing had grown unsteady as his cock got deeper and deeper inside of you, hitting where you’d never been quite able to get with your fingers, the thickness of him catching on every sensitive part inside of you. His hand was back between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit, and you weren’t sure you could last much longer, not as he carried on a conversation with Chuuya, who watched you with darkened eyes, barely holding himself back.

“Please, Osamu,” you were practically begging now, your cheeks glistening with wetness as you clawed at the muscles between his shoulder blades, surely leaving bruises all down his spine. “Please, please, let me cum.”

Dazai made a tsk noise in the back of his throat. “Not yet. I don’t think you deserve it quite yet, does she, Chuuya?”

Chuuya sniffed, shifting uncomfortably as his pants grew tighter. “Gonna punish her all day, boss? Such a pretty thing should get what she wants, shouldn’t she?”

Dazai dropped his chest closer to you, going deeper into you, and you cried out his name, though your eyes were still locked with Chuuya, as if he were going to be your savior. You remembered how gently he’d touched you, how careful he was, and you wondered why you’d ever wanted that at all.

“Chuuya thinks he can fuck you better than me, darling, but you know that’s not true, don’t you? He’d spoil you too much, but this is what you want, right? You want to be called a stupid fucking cockslut.” Dazai grinned against your lips, whispering in a breath that only you could hear. “Just so that at the end of it all, you’ll be my good girl.”

You whimpered, soaking him as you clenched harder. Your brain had gone numb from the feeling of him. Dazai was smiling viciously, but you could see the underlying tenderness.

“She looks so pretty right now, doesn’t she Chuuya? Not a single thought in that beautiful little head of hers.” He smiled at him knowingly, dark hair flopping into his eyes as the rest of the loose tendrils stuck to his forehead. “You’re lucky. You’ve gotten two chances to see her now. Twice as many as most men who fantasize about fucking a woman that sleeps in another man’s bed.”

Chuuya’s voice was raw, his words cracked. “You’re sick, Dazai,” he said, clenching his hands into fists. “Putting on a show like this just to punish me.”

“You and I both know you’re enjoying this.” Dazai traced your cheeks sweetly, kissing your lips deeply. You let out a strangled breath into his mouth, something on the precipice of a moan. “Can you do one thing for me, pretty girl? One more, then I’ll let you cum, how’s that?”

You nodded, desperately, as Dazai’s fingers finally dipped back down, rubbing agonizingly light circles.

“Tell Chuuya who’s making you feel this way,” Dazai said, pushing your face away from him to stare straight into Chuuya’s dark eyes. “Tell him who you love the most.”

“You,” you gasped out, clenching tighter around him. What an easy request to make—you’d never loved anyone else. “I’m in love with you.”

Dazai sniffed, though he was patient, slowing his thrusts almost to a stop. “Not good enough. I need you to be more specific.”

You cried out, locking your ankles onto his hips, trying to force him back into you. But Dazai didn’t budge, watching you until you provided the answer that he so desired. “I love you, Dazai.”

He frowned, shaking his head once more. “My name. Say it. It sounds so sweet from your lips.”

“Osamu,” you choked out. “I love you, Osamu. I love you. I love you.”

Dazai finally smiled above you, gently tracing your cheeks with his thumb as he slowed down the pace of his hips. “I love you too, darling.” His words were soft, whispered into your lips before he turned away, meeting eyes with Chuuya across the room. “See?”

Chuuya was glowering, stiff as a board, his face pink, and his legs shaky. “I got it, Boss.” He choked out, though his eyes were on you, unable to leave your body, even as he tried so hard to be polite. His aching cock strained against his pants, and he breathed sharply, swallowing over and over. “Do I need to be here any longer?”

Dazai laughed, and you thought he looked so pretty when he did that, his smile flashing wide and alluring, the corners of his eyes crinkling marginally. “Never said you had to stay. I figured you’d want to watch her come undone one last time.”

Chuuya, for as noble as he wanted himself to be, made no move to leave, glued to the spot on the floor beyond your bed. He was just across the room, but you couldn’t focus on anyone but Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, the man who you’d killed and bled and committed horrible acts for.

You said his name again, scrambling to bring his attention back to you, hands on his face with a desperation you didn’t realize you’d possessed.

And Dazai, with the kindness of a man he wasn’t, placed his hands just above your stomach, leaving kisses across your chin as he thrust into you, sweetly, menacingly, one last time. “You did so good, my love. You can cum now. Make a mess all over my cock, beautiful.”

You jerked, squeezing around him as you felt the pressure in you finally release, the colors shifting and changing between your high as Dazai brought you in and out of an orgasm, his words reaching your muddled brain with soothing noises. Your body twitched as your muscles spasmed, sweat gathering in the space under your knees. There was little in your mind, save for the dark-haired man that had quickly become your whole world.

You smiled lazily, lacing your fingers with Dazai as you slowly began to come back to yourself. The world around you was empty. Chuuya had all but disappeared into a block of nothingness as you stared into the world itself. If there was no Dazai, there was no you, and it was as simple as that. He was everything you’d ever wanted—you’d be a fool to ever left him go.

As you regained your breathing, still sensitive all over, Dazai came inside you, spilling hot release into you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care, too busy being satisfied with the feeling of him all over you.  His hands never left you—he was delicate, caring, pressing loving touches into your skin as you recovered from your high.

“I’m yours, Osamu,” you said, closing your eyes as you basked against the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up against him, bury yourself in the warmth of another body. 

He smiled against your cheeks, lips flushed and bruised. “I know you are,” he said to you only, before pulling away. You shivered, but opened your eyes, and he’d already held the gun out to you, presenting it as an offering. “That’s why you’ll be the one to kill him.”

It took you all of ten seconds to remember who him was, and that the man who had borne witness to your most intimate moments with Dazai had not disappeared and was still gawking at you from the corner of the room.

“What?” you asked stupidly, your jaw falling open.

“You heard me.” Dazai pressed the pistol into your palm, curling your fingers around the handle. It was like ice against your hot body, and though it’d been years since your first time firing such a weapon, you suddenly felt like you were there again, uncertain, and afraid of the dangerous firearm. “Kill him.”

You stared at Chuuya, the honest man who, even despite his rough exterior, had been there for you since you were kids. You remembered how the three of you had been so close, for such a long time, until Dazai had gone and killed Mori and fucked it all up.

It felt wrong. The entire situation was wrong, and it never should’ve come to this.

“It’s Chuuya,” you said with tired eyes, something in your voice pleading and desperate.  

Dazai shrugged, holding you close against him as you struggled to sit up in the bed. Your muscles ached and you were still so sensitive, but reality was coming back to you. This was all a mess, and you wanted so badly to feel shame at everything you had done, but you were trying so hard just to–

“You’d think I’d let him live after what he did?”

“Osamu.” You weren’t sure you could bear it. You’d always sworn to kill whatever adversary Dazai and the Port Mafia faced, but Chuuya would always be an exception. You wanted him in your life as much as you wanted Dazai, someone you could trust without fail, who would listen to you complain even when it hurt him. “I won’t do it. He’s my friend. I thought he was yours too.”

Dark eyes full of disdain met your own, and he pinched your jaw once more, a mixture of devastating anger. “I can’t allow a traitor to live. I’ll kill him if you won’t. Then, I’ll kill you. Then myself.”

You shoved him away, suddenly wishing you weren’t so exposed, on display in the middle of the room. “Then fucking do it already, Dazai. What are you waiting for?” A tear broke free from your eye, and you wiped it furiously, not giving him a chance to mock you.

“Stop.” Chuuya finally spoke, his voice drawing your attention like a commandment, and you fell silent, refocusing on him as he bowed before you, dropping to his knees. Eyes locked onto your own without a single fear, cruel acceptance surrounding dark pupils. “It’s alright. I deserve to die. I’ve broken your trust, boss. I might as well be a traitor to the Mafia.” He swallowed, though he was unwavering. “I don’t want to live with this feeling any longer.”

“Don’t say that.” you spat, hating that such a strong man was giving himself over, exposing every weary weakness that he’d come to carry. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do.” He sighed, straightening his spine as he leaned forward towards your hand, much as you had done before, and you realized that this was such a sick, twisted change of fate. That the affection you’d always doubted was real after all, but Chuuya was still left playing the fool.

Perhaps, you were of the same vein, wanting desperately to die in the heavenly hand of the one you loved most. You could understand him for that. You could grant him one final wish.

“Do you regret any of it?” Dazai asked, as the wheels in your head spun, the decision dawning upon you, handed over from the ancient tragedies, rival even to the gloomy romances of Shakespeare.

Chuuya shifted towards the other man, looking into his cold, distant eyes. “No,” he said honestly, his jaw set. “I don’t regret it because now I know she’ll never love me. She’s all yours Dazai. Always has been. Always will be. Does that satisfy you?”

There wasn’t an ounce of fury in his expression when Dazai smiled back.

“You heard him,” Dazai said, lifting your limp arm by the elbow, pointing it like a skilled tutor. The gun was on Chuuya’s forehead, between his eyebrows, and your finger was on the trigger. Dazai’s whisper was like the Devil on your shoulder, and you were falling fast, your last shred of morality burnt from papery resolve. His hand supported your weakened muscles, guiding you along like you’d never before committed such an act. “You’re an assassin, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, narrowing your eyes before cocking the gun, mustering up the last bit of strength you had left. Chuuya couldn’t have looked more prepared for death, and you basked in Dazai’s prideful smile as he branded it into the crook of your neck.

“You’re certain?” you said to Chuuya, once more, hand no longer shaking despite your guilt.

The man, nothing more than a victim, nodded, and he had the audacity to smile, to look peaceful about his release from this life.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my sin.” “It’s mine to carry, just as it is yours,” he scoffed, eyes hard with resolve. “Of all the things that would land me in Hell, I hardly believe this is the worst.”

You nodded, regrettably, and took a steely breath, erasing the heat the stung behind your eyes.

Then, you pulled the trigger. You waited for Chuuya’s brains to stain your floors, for the remnants of his skull to shatter all across the wall behind him. For the life to slowly drain from his stunningly bright eyes, leaving you with nothing but a corpse that would rot away wherever Dazai chose to toss his body.

Though, none of those things happened, and you stared at each other with fierce incredulity, knowing that you’d unwillingly become puppets in Dazai’s dramatic play, a show put on for no one’s entertainment but his own.

You’d been completely senseless, an idiot, really. The gun had felt lighter than usual, and you’d ignored it, even when you should’ve known it housed no bullets.

“Dazai?” you said in a low voice, dangerously, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. An anger you’d never felt before had bubbled up inside of you, your heart thundering with a fierceness you hadn’t realized was a part of you. “There’s no bullets.”

“Obviously,” he scoffed, taking the gun away like it was but a toy, throwing it onto the armchair in the corner. “I’d never kill the strongest ability-user in the Mafia. You both should know me better by now.”

You scowled, the ugly expression marring your face, and Dazai frowned, leaning forward to appease you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You played me for a fool. Was all of this an act?” you cried, wondering if maybe Dazai had been lying this entire time. Maybe all those sweet words he said had never been true, and you had fallen for them anyway, like the mindless pawn you were.

“Which part?” Dazai asked, but you could tell that he knew what answer you sought, what lies you wanted to unveil.

“You know which part,” you said, moving away from him, not sure what emotion to grant control. You felt an intense amount of fury, misery, and pity for yourself, who’d never asked Dazai for anything but to be on your side, and he still couldn’t give you that. “Fuck you, Dazai.”

Your lip quivered, but if you’d begun to cry, shame would swallow you up and drown you in the dark abyss of misery. You would have no other choice but to throw yourself out the window, where everyone in the Port Mafia could bear witness to all the ways that Dazai had ruined you.

“Boss—”

Chuuya’s sentence was cut off sharply.

You’d tried to climb out of the bed, but Dazai had grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could escape from him once and for all. Though he spoke to Chuuya, his eyes were hard on you, never leaving the set he stared into as you swallowed over and over, trying to think of anything but the sick feeling in your chest.

“You can leave now, Chuuya. Consider this your lucky day.” His voice was icy, threatening, and though Chuuya lingered a moment before climbing to his feet, he spared you nothing but a small glance in return.

You inhaled, then exhaled, trying to stop the simmering of blood within your veins, feeling the heavy weight of his hand on your wrist. As you sat there in silence, waiting for him to be the one to break it, you started to wonder how much of this was really Dazai’s fault, and how much you were the one to blame.

“It was a test.” Dazai tried to bring your attention back to him, letting only a fragment of emotion drain into his voice, though it was enough to slowly, slowly pique your fascination once more. “That was all.”

You wet your lips, though your tongue was just as papery. “So none of it was real.”

“What do you mean?” Dazai came to sit in front of you, his skin pale in the dark lighting, and you could see the cracks in his facade, and maybe this splinter in your failing relationship would slowly begin to heal itself. “Everything I said was very much real.”

His soft fingertips traveled up your arm, curling around your shoulder, across your collarbone, before settling in that delicate space between your jaw and your ear. There was a starry look in his eyes, the twin pair that had been exposed.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” you said, scrunching your face in remorse, wanting to slither away from him, even as he drew you closer, close enough to smell the expensive cologne he wore, the liquor that he favored when you were away. His hair had been freshly washed, and the smell of shampoo still lingered, even under the thin layer of sweat.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” Dazai countered, the hurt not veiled in the slightest this time, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you were looking away, wondering why he was pulling you close to his chest when he should be hating you with the passion of a thousand fiends. “How could I trust you after that?”

You parted your lips to speak, but your jaw was locked, and the inside of your mouth tasted like cotton.

“I’m not a good man,” Dazai said, kissing the shell of your ear, your temple, and you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to his bicep. “You’ve always known this. Yet, for as often as you talk about me with disgust dripping from your words, I’ve never sought to bring you pain.” He breathed in deeply, and you buried your face into his chest, wondering how much longer it’d be before you wept. “You’ve caused me pain.”

You tried to cry out, to tell him that you never thought it would hurt him, but he’d seen the very same in you, hadn’t he? You’d never given him any indication that the coldness in his words was bothering you, that the blurred lines of your relationship were getting confusing and hurtful, and he had done the same.

“We’re not good for each other, Osamu,” you whispered quietly, your lip quivering. The weight of your voice shattered against your vocal cords.

He let out a breathy laugh, smiling against your forehead. “On the contrary, I think we’re the perfect fit.”

For what reason he believed that, you weren’t sure.

You clenched your jaw tight, but it didn’t stop the feeling of tears from overwhelming you, hot droplets that spilled heavy from your eyes, running off your chin to Dazai’s chest. Your hands shook, clenched around his arms so tightly you were sure you were breaking the skin.

Dazai pulled away, monitoring your face with concern. You hated the way he looked at you with such pity when he was the reason for such pain. Yet, you couldn’t help but curl into him, warm, never wanting to escape from his reverence. “Why are you crying, my sweet angel?”

Nausea soured your mouth, and the regret that tinged you, tainted you, was vastly overwhelming. It was horrible in a way that you’d never felt.

It struck you, then, that you’d been blind to Dazai’s every affection, too ignorant to notice the ways that they had shifted as his life did. He no longer held your hand over the table during meetings, but the chair beside his was just as grandiose, and he greeted you with something of a smile when you walked into each room. He no longer accompanied you on assignments, but you were always taken care of, in a hotel most people couldn’t afford with a partner that could singlehandedly take out a hundred men. He no longer picked you flowers from a wild field as he’d done as a boy, but the vase on the table always held a beautiful bouquet of deep, red roses, without a single wilting flower.  

Chuuya, all this time, all these years had been right. There was no use in loving Dazai if you couldn’t stand him in his darkest hour, the bitter ugly side of him that no one wanted to see.

You’d never thought about it, really, but you’d changed just as he had. Everyone in the Mafia had blood on their hands, was ruined in more ways than one, and you were no exception. If loving Dazai meant loving those parts of him, then loving you meant just the same.

The tears fell harder, and Dazai seemed panicked, stricken, always so oblivious when it came to the affairs of your heart, and sometimes he tried, but you couldn’t hate him if he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you said pitifully, knowing from the spoiled heart in your very chest had ruined everything. “I’m sorry.” You said it again and again until Dazai was shushing you, running a large, cool palm down your back, the only way he knew to soothe you.

“I wish I’d never done it. I wish I’d just spoken to you, asked you, anything—” you wiped your face, heavy breaths stuttering before Dazai took your hands away, and erased the tears for you. “I just thought you hated me. It was the only thing that made sense.”

Dazai smiled sadly, because no one had taught him to love. How was he to know that he’d been doing it wrong all this time. “I wish I’d seen it before. I didn’t mean to push you away.” He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder with a weariness that he’d been born with. “I’m sorry.”

A tingling sensation began under your skin, and you were warm all over, realizing just how much that apology had meant to you. For some reason, it felt like coming home.

The strong grip that nostalgia had on you gradually began to melt away.

[nina-ya]

Queen of the Night

A/N: I have always wanted to do something like this ever since I discovered Oda associates Law with this flower so here!!! Pairing: Law x reader CW: backstory spoilers if you squint its like super vague tho • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It happens so rarely that you sometimes forget what it feels like. Law is a man of barriers built so high that you’ve lost count of the layers. And yet, Law, the Queen of the Night, blooms ever so rarely for you, and his guard falls. It’s never when you expect it. It could be at moments when the moon is at its highest and you two are sitting in comfortable silence, or it could be when the sun kisses your skin as you explore an island with the crew. Small and elusive moments, so fragile that you almost fear that they aren’t real.

“Have I told you about my parents?” There it is. The blooming of the flower that only dares to show its beauty in the most scarce moments. 

It’s the kind of sentence that hands in the air suspended in time. You blink and your breath catches in your throat because you know better than to ask questions when it comes to him. You know that if you prod or push too hard, he’ll retreat back into that shell he’s so used to hiding in. 

So you wait. 

Law’s eyes are fixed on some distant point off across the room, as though he is seeing the very manifestation of something that no longer exists. 

“They were good people. Doctors. Believed in saving lives… even when the world told them it was pointless.”

There’s a bitterness in his words that you can feel deep in your chest. He’s not talking about the heroism of their profession- no, this is something darker, something heavy that sits on his shoulders and is weighing heavily on him. 

You stay silent, giving him space. You watch as the flower opens slowly, petal by petal, revealing its delicate center only when it feels safe.

“They didn’t deserve what happened to them,” he continues, voice cracking in a way that you know he wouldn’t allow on any other occasion. It’s a sound that feels too raw, too real, for someone of his nature. 

His hand twitches against his leg, the muscle tensing as if fighting back the urge to hold something that isn’t there anymore. You want to reach out and touch him, but something holds you back. Not fear, no, but respect. You understand that these moments are a gift, and you don't show him pity or try to interrupt him, you just let him open up on his own accord. 

“And when they died- my parents… sister… everyone…” He swallows, throat tightening as he struggles to get the words out. “I fell into a very dark place. One that I am not sure I have completely gotten away from.”

His words are jagged, straight from the depths of his soul and you wonder just how long he’s carried all of this with him, letting it fester in his mind waiting to be told to those who are patient enough to wait for him to be ready to say such things. 

“What happened during that darkness- the man who brought me out of it…” he pauses once more, taking a shaky breath. “He’s the reason why I am doing all of this. He’s why I am even here.” 

You don’t dare ask for details of the savior he speaks of, knowing that he will tell you when he’s ready. Tonight might not be the night, but you have already accepted that you won’t be getting all the details, but rather just a few pieces of the puzzle of his past that you ought to put together over time. 

The flower will soon close again by morning and Law will soon put back up those walls, locking himself away for the unforeseeable future. So you savor what little time you have watching him blossom. You feel a sense of honor knowing that he trusts you enough to let you see this side of him, even if it’s just for tonight. 

And even when the flower of his heart begins to close, you know deep down that it will bloom again. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a long time. But it will. And when it does, you’ll be right there, waiting, just like you are tonight. 

Because that’s what it means to love him. To be patient. To wait. And to cherish every moment that the Queen of the Night blooms for you. 

[locketsvault]

「 CUDDLING WITH BSD MEN PT 2/4 」

pairings: chuuya x reader ፥ akutagawa x reader ፥ oda x reader

tags: gender neutral reader, no agab mentioned, first person, fluff, cuddling/phyiscal affection

warnings: talks of canon illness in akutagawa, not proof read

other parts: ada ᨒ port mafia ᨒ doa + the guild ᨒ the hunting dogs

a/n: fyi for chuuya I have not read stormbringer so forgive me. oda is also short because I didn’t really know what to say for him. no gender or sex mentioned, no pronouns either!

// chuuya nakahara ⌇˚.༄

⮑ Is there such thing as classy cuddles? Because he gives classy cuddles.

⮑ The word I’d use for him in a relationship is classy, I can’t help it. But I do mean classy in a good way. Physical affection with him started off small, and he allowed you to pace when you were ready for more. I also see him as someone who always has an arm around you, either over your shoulders or on your waist.

⮑ He keeps pda to a minimum, he won’t cuddle you in public, especially in front his co workers. He’s an executive and he takes it serious. I also don’t think he’d want to show you as his weakness, he wouldn’t want you to get hurt.

⮑ Cuddling with Chuuya is oddly nice. Oddly because he seems rough on the outside. He is very rarely little spoon during cuddle sessions, he feels insecure. But he makes up for it, he’s a great big spoon. He’s a warm, very very warm. I can actually picture you in between his legs cuddling him while he has a wine glass in his hand. Now a many things could happen, one of you is talking, or you’re watching something. Either way, it works well with him.

⮑ The downside is he isn’t home much for cuddles. He’s either away for jobs or at work. So unless you’re willing to sit in his lap while he does paperwork, you don’t get your cuddles.

⮑ 7/10, very good cuddles …when you get them.

// ryunosuke akutagawa ⌇˚.༄

⮑ I just want to know how you managed to touch him in the first place.

⮑ Everyone always says he is touch adverse, which I completely agree, but then people usually say that when it comes down to it he hates it and stuff like that. I have to disagree. I think he’s terrified of it yes, he grew up without any form of physical love, but I do think deep down he yearns for it. He craves it and, when he finally gives in, his entire meticulously built wall completely shatters. Which is how I wonder, how’d you manage it?

⮑ I won’t lie, I believe behind closed doors once he’s comfortable with cuddling or touch and he’s quite clingy. You just feel so warm and well— safe. I can promise you though, it will only be behind closed doors. Do not try to be physically affectionate in public, especially in front of his coworkers. At least not for a very long time.

⮑ I like to imagine that after a time, with lots of reassurance about his ability, he will pull you into cuddles with rashomon. Which, I feel like he’d be bad about verbally asking for affection so he’d do that instead. It’s easier on his illness to use his ability.

⮑ Speaking of his illness sadly, it can make cuddling tough. One moment you could be resting in his arms and the next he’s having a nasty coughing fit. There’s been times when he’s be insecure about his illness and not want to be touched anymore.

⮑ 4/10, I love my baby but his illness + his traumas it’s hard for him to be physically affectionate.

// oda sakunosuke ⌇˚.༄

⮑ He takes care of orphans therefore I am a firm believer he knows how to cuddle.

⮑ I mean it too, he takes care of kids physically and emotionally, he’s got dad hugs. If anyone is gonna hold you and it make you feel safe and taken care of, it’s him. And he knows it too. And he has a six sense for when you need cuddling. And sometimes you end up in a cuddle pile with the kids. I don’t make the rules.

⮑ Oda is 50/50 with pda, he doesn’t mind it, especially if it’s something you love. But it does worry him, like Chuuya, he’s afraid of showing you as a weakness and you getting hurt or killed. But if it’s safe, he usually sticks to holding your hand or holding your waist. I can see him holding you close with your heads rested in each others shoulders while at a public theater.

⮑ Private cuddles are common and comfortable. Oh and he’s always the big spoon. He’s always holding you, I don’t really see him as the type to be held.

⮑ 9/10 you can feel all the care in his arms.

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Dazai Osamu is in your bed, and he demands love, protection and cuddles

Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader

Description: You really should have think twice, before giving kids "Clifford, The Big Red Dog" book and ask Dazai to look after them.

|Next part | >

Follow up

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Fluffy.

_______

You can't tell, for sure, how long you have been in a shower. But, you have a feeling, that it wasn't that long. Still, somehow, Dazai not only managed to get into your room. He also managed to stole your blankets, and hide them somewhere in a house.

"How?" was the only thing that you managed to say. You know, that you were supposed to feel angry, or, at least, irritated, but, you have your curiosity, and you want to satisfy it.

Dazai, dressed in his pajamas, and who was now laying on your bed, looked into your eyes. At least, tried. Because you, in return, try not to look at him.

"I have my ways, Iris Flower. So, listen to my demands, if you want to see your blankets again!" Dazai patted the mattress near him. "I demand cuddles, love and protection! If I didn't get them, you will never see your blankets again!"

You probably could go to someone else's room and ask to spend a night with them. Then, in the morning, go with Fitzgerald and buy new blankets, then ask Oda to help you install a locker on your wardrobe, where you kept blankets. For a few hours your blankets will be secure. Then Dazai will pick up the lock and everything will start again.

Dazai reached his arms towards you. His smug grin was replaced with a pout.

"Please, My Kind Iris Flower, I was searching for a sanctuary! Please, let me stay! And give me love and cuddles! Come on~ Look at me~!"

You rubbed your temples. You need to stay focused.

"Why do you even need to a sanctuary?" asked you, looking at your chair. It was a good chair. Interesting chair. You will look at the chair. And not at Dazai.

"Well…"

__________

Earlier, today

__________

"Uncle Dazai, can you read us this book?" Sakura was holding one of the books you recommend Oda to get for his kids. Yuu, Katsumi, Kousuke, Shinji and Aya were standing behind Sakura, making their best puppy dog eyes. Dazai rolled his eyes, but took the book from Sakura. You asked him to babysit kids, and he will do his job perfectly. For you.

"Clifford, The Big Red Dog." Dazai read the title.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the bad. This idea was on his mind ever since he started reading that book. Bad idea. And a golden opportunity.

Dazai smiles, looking at kids.

"Kids, you know, that Clifford became big, because Emily Elizabeth loved him so much? Do you want to help a red chihuahua pup became as big as Clifford?"

Kids eagerly nodded, waiting for Dazai's instructions.

______________

"You asked kids to pamper Chuuya?!" You turned your head towards Dazai, staring at him. Big mistake.

Dazai came to you prepared. He did his best to look adorable and cuddly. He brushed his hair, and it looked extremely fluffy. His pajamas have a cute cat paw print and looked cozy and warm. He was constantly doing a puppy dog eyes, pouting a little. You could swear, that Dazai apply something, to make his eyelashes look extra thick tonight. And on his cheeks. Otherwise, you can't explain, why he has blush on his cheeks. Dazai rolled on his back, opening his arms for a hug. He stuck a tip of his tongue.

He literally made a "blep face". Is it your payment for comparing Dazai to a cat?

"I knew, that Chihuahua Nakahara won't yell at kids~ And the opportunity was rare and golden! Yet, I didn't expect kids to get busted and told Chihuahua about me!"

Dazai smiles, closing his eyes. You probably should look away and broke the "Dazai's cuteness" spell. But you can't! His hair looked too fluffy! His chest looks too comfortable to lay on! He looked squishable!

Now, you will say no to him, you will get him out of your room and make him to deal with the mess he has created!

"Comfy, [Y/N]?" asked Dazai, stopping showering you with kisses. He was laying on top of you. His body pressed tightly against yours. You were trapped. You can try to wiggle out of Dazai's grasp, but he has you pinned firmly enough down that only a burst of effort could free you. And you don't want to hurt him. Or stop cuddling.

"Mhm" mumbled you, running your fingers through his brown hair. With your second arm around his waist, you move your hand down from time to time to dance across his side.

Dazai's grin became bigger, and he returned to showering your cheeks with kisses.

"Good. I can't let my benevolent savior be unsatisfied with cuddles."

Suddenly, Dazai rolled down from you, laying on the opposite side of your bed. He, asked, looking deep into your eyes.

"Now, it's your turn. Remember, I still hold your blankets hostage!"

He lay his head down, looking at you. His eyelids were half-closed.

"Be grateful, that you are cute." You huffed, getting on top of Dazai. Now you were pinning him firmly against the mattress. Dazai's quiet laughter was your answer.

You nuzzle against his neck, leaving a trail of kisses. Dazai's laugh end in a cough. You knew without looking, that now he was blushing again. You lift your body a little, so you can put both of your hands on his tummy, while having access to his neck and face.

Your hands roam around his chest and stomach, while you planted kisses on Dazai's cheeks, temples, nose, forehead and chin. Dazai left out a soft moan, before putting his hands around you, pressing you against him. Dazai turned on his, still holding you.

You two were laying face to face. Dazai's hold on you was firm. You can feel the warmth coming from him.

Dazai pull his face into your hair.

"Heaven..." whispered him. "True bliss..."

He yawned, pressing you even closer to himself.

"Thank you, [Y/N]."

You also yawned, nuzzling against his neck.

"You are welcome. Good night, Osamu."

In the dark of the night, quiet words were your answer.

"Good night. I love you."

[justchelleing]

i’d like to request space song with dazai (specifically pm!dazai) hurt/comfort scenario,, reader comforting dazai during a breakdown or smth :(

Space Song

Pairing: Pm! Dazai x Fem! Reader(platonic)/Mori x 27! Reader

Type: Oneshot

Genre: Comfort/Fluff

Warnings: Long winded commas, Stormbringer spoilers/mentions, Dark Era mentions, Oda's death, mentions of war, mentions of Yosano's backstory, Mori being a bitch, slight yandere Mori mentions, kinda went off topic..

Synopsis: Dazai finally found someone who saw him for who he was and when his dearest friend died, he finds himself finding comfort in her embrace like a child being comforted by his mother.

A/n: Hey.. Please state if you want it to be romantic/platonic.. since you didn't say which one you want, I'll do the latter. Reader is implied to be 27 while Mori is 33. Reader is like a mother to Dazai. I kinda wrote this without thinking so I am so sorry.

Event // Pm. Masterlist // M.Masterlist

Dazai Osamu is the feared Demon Prodigy, the youngest underboss in the history of Port Mafia, the boss' right hand man, a genius; but deep down he was a child. A child misguided to do the wrong deeds, a lonely child used as a tool by others, a child who got affiliated with a mafioso at the age of fourteen, after an attempt in suicide. He was suicidal, a child at his age should be thinking of academics instead of how to end a war with another organization with the least casualties for his own gain. He could not see the purpose in living. Nobody saw him for who he was, it was never Osamu Dazai. Everything changed when he was fifteen, he met someone who gave him a reason to live for, someone who didn't judge him.

"sir, the boss has called you to his office" A black car stopped just beside of where he stood in the street.

"A mailman huh. I guess it really is important for Mori-san" he sighed, entering the back door of the car. It has almost been a year after Mori made him his 'witness' and succeeded as the Port Mafia boss.

The drive was silent, nobody said a word. The mailman was focused on driving and Dazai was looking out the window, observing people and their daily activities.

"We're here" The mailman said before the car stopped.

"mhm" He muttered opening and closing the door shut, and he drove away.

He was very familiar with the building. The five building-like-towers in the heart of Yokohama, the middle one being the tallest of all; where the Port Mafia boss, Mori Ogai lies. He reaches the highest floor and was eventually greeted by the guards, as he arrived he saw the boss and an unfamiliar woman sitting on the boss' desk, reading a document.

"Boss" He cleared his voice making his presence clear as the both of them talked.

"ah.. Dazai-kun" Mori shifted his attention from the woman to him.

"Sit down please" He offered while Dazai walked over to the small chair in the middle of the room. Mori made his his way towards another chair and sat down across him. She took documents on top of the desk after grabbing a brown, vintage briefcase. Making her way towards the door, Mori began explaining to Dazai. The only sound that feel the room was her heels clacking to the tiled floor until Mori finally spoke up.

"As you know Dazai-kun, the previous boss has returned.. based on the information you acquired from investigating Subarachi(?) city, it may have a lead on this 'Arahibaki' and by coincidence it seems that the Sheep King is looking for the so called God of Destruction" He explained.

"and?" He replied, clearly uninterested.

"He's suggesting that you work with Nakahara Chūya, if possible make him join the Mafia" She walked passed them, handing Dazai the documents she read earlier.

"Mhm, and you are?" Dazai asked before reading the documents. She continued to walk towards the door before Mori stopped her by ordering the guards from behind the door.

"Stay. (name)-sama" He smiled while she stopped in her tracks after hearing a pair of guards ruffle through the door.

"Haii.. what do you want now?" She let out a long, exasperated sigh. Ignoring her question, he explained to Dazai who she was.

"Dazai-kun, this is (name)-sama. She was strategist from the Great War" Sighing, she flopped down on a spare chair after he continued to explain about her to the young boy.

"So she knows about you killing the previous boss then?" He asked before glancing at her then to him.

"Yes. Now let's discuss this whole thing and why am I part of this?" She sat up, sending a glare at Mori.

"It was just as I explained earlier. The previous boss returned, Dazai-kun saw him personally so now that we have the Sheep King in our capture, we'll use that to our advantage by making him join the mafia." He gave both of them a closed-eye smile, Dazai put down the document and she gave him an annoyed look.

"That won't work" Both of them sighed in unison.

"Hm?"

"Chūya is too loyal to the Sheep. It's already given after all if he didn't, he would've left them to die long ago. After realizing his own potential, he would join an organization with a high pay; if he didn't have deep ties with them..—" She explained, sitting back down while Dazai listened to her.

"The only reason for him to join us for the Sheep's safety" He followed after hearing her explain.

"—It's not guaranteed he'll be loyal. If he joins the organization for their safety alone, there's a high chance he will destroy the mafia from the inside and save his little herd"

"Wait are you suggesting-?" Dazai's eyes widened realizing what she means.

"Yes.. We have to make them suspicious of him. If they notice they have been too dependent on him, they'll do any means to overthrow him and that's where we go in." She moved the white bishop on the chess board creating an opening for the rook, and continuing the abandoned game.

"After their betrayal, the Mafia comes in and will pretend to wipe out the Sheep. Chūya, after being betrayed will stay to protect them; so he will do a bargain to save them" Dazai moved the black knight, eating the bishop and now he was in advantage in terms of pieces.

"He'll then join the mafia in terms of the bargain" She then proceeded to move her rook from across the board, blocking the king's only path to escape, almost delivering a checkmate until Dazai's queen ate it to make the game a bit longer, but not to escape the inevitable fate.

"however-" Mori sighed but was cut off by her.

"since the main priority is to make sure the previous boss doesn't return so his supporters won't start a revolution.. you have to fix that first or else you'll get tortured, then executed" She glances at Mori before moving her rook to eat Dazai's queen, delivering a back-rank checkmate. Mori was in awe after watching his protegee and ex-lover play chess in sync, as if they were reading each other's minds.

"But won't you get executed too, (name)-san? I mean you knew of how the boss'really died, yet you didn't say anything.. making you, another accomplice" Dazai leaned into his chair, analyzing how he lost.

"I'm not part of the Mafia—" She nonchalantly responded.

"Yet." Mori's voice was full of demands.

"..tch. As I said, no." She stood up from her chair, giving Dazai a small smile before turning back to the door.

"Why?" This time he was more pushy for some reason.

"It's none of your business" She hissed before opening the door and leaving.

"Well isn't she beautiful.." He muttered under his breath while Dazai sat there with a fed up look on his face.

That was their first encounter. The second one was after both of them planned a strategy to defeat Verlaine. Even if Dazai didn't have any encounters with her that didn't involve work, he grew close to her. During their plannings, he was childish but she didn't mind. He felt comfortable with her, as if he could actually show his true self. She didn't try to exploit his intelligence, as she has one of her own, she tried to understand his view of the world, she sees through his emotions but she never used it to take advantage of him.

When she joined the mafia, her position was a strategist, even if she didn't engage in missions, she was valued by the Mafia because she was the one to pull the strings and by she was liked Mori personally. He had an interest in her that Dazai seemed to distinguish as love, one that he thought Mori was not capable off. All those who tried to assassinate her failed, because of Mori's interference and his predictions. Dazai didn't want her to die, not because of how important she was in the organization but because of his own personal reasons. He then became an executive at eighteen and met quite a few people, Sakunosuke Oda and Sakaguchi Ango, whom he calls his friends. Dazai finds himself looking for her again and again, wanting to see her, because of him, Oda, Ango and her became acquainted..

Oda and (name) was on a small talking about the orphans until Ango interrupted.

"I feel like I'm quite the third wheel here you know?"

"My, my.. I never knew you were sad that you were left out Ango-kun" She teased.

"Tch. I never knew you liked kids (name)-san" He tried to switch the topic.

"I feel neutral about them—I don't dislike them nor do I like them... I once met a child in the war, she was there as a nurse since her ability allowed her to heal soldiers... such a precious child—if I remember correctly, her name was Yosano" She faintly smiled at the memory.

"You took part in the war.?" Oda fiddled with his fingers.

"Mhm.. as a strategist..." She responded. Both of them stopped in their tracks before she turned around to face them.

"If she was in the healing section and you were a strategist, how did you meet her?" Ango asked, she halted and her eyes widened a bit before laying her head low.

"My ex-lover was a doctor, he was in charge of the nurses in the war including her. I ended our relationship because of how he treated that little girl and some other reasons... in the end, she was left traumatized.. I don't know what happened to her after it was over" She quietly muttered, remembering the bitter memories of the war.

"I see.. I'm sorry for asking-" He tried to apologize but was cut off but a faint voice screaming her name.

"Y/n-san!"

" hmm.? Dazai-" before she could say anything else, his body crashed with hers as he hugged her.

"I'm quite hurt that you didn't invite me you know!" He pouted before looking at both of them.

"Anyway! Why did you three look so glum-" He tried asking but he was cut off by his phone ringing.

"Oh. It's him. Oii slug what do you want?"

"What do you mean what do I want!? You suicidal waste of bandages! We have a mission remember?!" Chūya screamed through his phone while Dazai listened with a nonchalant expression.

"Yea, yea"

"YOU'RE PROBABLY WITH THAT STUPID STRATEGIST AND YOUR EQUALLY STUPID FRIENDS!" He insulted him while Dazai was quite taken aback. He gasped before he returned the screams.

"OI YOU SLUG! YOU'RE PROBABLY JUST JEALOUS THAT I HAVE FRIENDS AND A MOTHER FIGURE!!!" All of you were quite shocked but Dazai didn't even realize what he was saying.

"I DO HAVE FRIENDS! AND I HAVE ANE-SAN!"

"NO YOU DO NOT! YOU MAY HAVE A MOTHER FIGURE BUT ALL YOUR FRIENDS ARE KILLED BY YOUR HOELESS BROTHER!" He screamed, ending the call before Chūya could repriocate what he said and kill him.

"sorry about that, slug was being extra annoying" he smiled but all of them were still processing what he said earlier

"Dazai.. do you see me as a mother figure.?" She asked, coughing. Her words didn't seem to process in his mind for a second or two.

"Of course not! I only said that to piss him off!" He tried explaining, even though his lie was clearly visible; she didn't bother to inquire any further, not wanting to be nosy.

"Now let's go drink I'm thirsty!" Dazai exclaimed, heading to Lupin while they followed.

That was the last time all of them drank. She was sent away because of an organization called the Mimic appeared, Mori kept her busy for a reason she couldn't hold a grasp on. Soon, Ango betrayed the mafia and Oda died. The reason why Mori kept her busy was so she cannot interfere and warn Dazai, now the Port Mafia has a special abilities permit with the cost of everything that mattered to Dazai. She only found out the last minute, and she hates that she can't do anything about it.

After hearing Oda's last words he was about to leave the abandoned mansion until he met her running. She saw Dazai, standing infront of the ballroom door with his head hung low; when she reached him, he collapsed to the floor into her arms. His head was on the crook of her neck, and her arms was around him, hugging him, slowly patting his head as he struggled to breath.

"Shh... It's okay I'm here" Her voice trembled knowing that the kids along with Oda are dead but she could only focus on the poor child in her arms.

"He's dead... Mori-san used the Mimic to get that black envelope and he-" He explained between hiccups.

"I know" She whispered but her voice cracked.

"What did Oda say.?" She patted his back trying to comfort him but his grip tightened on her.

"He wanted me to save people.. to find a value in life" He bit his lip.

"Then go.." She continued to comfort him but he left her embrace upon hearing her words.

"What.?"

"Don't worry about me.. one day you'll find your reason in living, and you would be happy that you listened to him" She smiled at him as he slowly got up.

"Then how about you?" He tried with every bit of strength he could find to convince her to go with him. She got up too, now facing him directly in the eyes she said:

"You're still young, you would be leaving an environment you are never supposed to be in. And I.. My soul is already bounded to the mafia, if I leave with you he'd do what it takes to get me back"

"But still I-"

"Mafiosos will be here soon... Go to Chief Taneda of the Special Division of the Unusual Powers in a small cheep bar, he'll help you. Don't hesitate to turn your back, go" She quickly explained grabbing him by the shoulders with a tenses expression. His lips parted but he didn't know what to say.

"Just go, I'll meet you again" She gave him a reassuring smiled. Upon seeing her eyes, he nodded.

"Thank you.." He quietly muttered before finally leaving.

A/n: Damn that was hard and cringe.. just so you know I kinda got distracted by music while doing this I apologize... For the person who requested this you can go to the comment section and say if you want me to redo it because I'll gladly do so :)

[wasteofbandagesxx]

I wanna live

{Dazai x reader}

warning: toxic relationship, suicide, forced suicide, lack of communication, pressure, Dazai losing his sanity

"Dazai your not listening to me!"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm tired of listening to people telling me that there's hope in life, and things are gonna be ok."

The relationship has been complicated these past few weeks, almost a few months. You were dating one of the port mafia executives and of course, your dating the demon prodigy himself. Dazai Osamu, his charms never failed to amaze you, but it's his humor and personality that attracted you.

His sweet words pulled strings to your heart, you couldn't help but fall for the devilish man. He had a demons tongue, almost like the master of seducing woman. He was a womanizer after all, until he met you. Something about you just made him interested, wanting to know more about you. You weren't like any other woman he's ever dated. You were genuinely sweet, carefree, and resilient.

Now the relationship has gone down hill, after 3 years of dating, everything has changed. The death of friends and the constant missions be affecting their relationship. It didn't cause any fights, just less time together, but ever since Oda died, things completely changed. Dazai did nothing but drink his sorrows away and slightly take his anger out on you. You do your best to comfort him, let him know that he's not alone. On the top of the mafia base, you two were having a little date, until Dazai lost his shit. His day was bad, but he pretty much reached his breaking point. You tried talking to him, but he just pushes you away.

"Dazai, there's more to life than just suicide. You know I can't handle the negativity no matter how hard I try. You pressure it into me and it scares me! I constantly worry about you and check on you because I care about my boyfriend. My own boyfriend can't even acknowledge the fact that someone is there for him, that I'm there for him! Am I not enough for you to live?" You sobbed, pouring your heart out and all Dazai could do is stand there speechless.

"Y/n, Darling....there's nothing for me here. This place is s hell hole. It's not like I-"

"....Dazai?"

Dazai stood frozen, a crazy smile slowly formed onto his face before he even looks directly at you, as if he came up with an idea.

"Let's commit double suicide, for real this time." He said, the desperation in his voice was obvious. You got scared, as much as you wanted to run off you still wanted to try and support your boyfriend, even though Dazai will never listen or seek for your comfort in a time like this. "Dazai, I've told you this 100 times. I'm not doing it." The anger in your voice was very clear that you didn't want to have this conversation again. He's tried convincing you multiple times, even when your at your worst. Despite all that, you were never broken enough to take your own life. "Dazai, please-"

"Let's go to the afterlife together! We won't have to worry about anything. Belladonna, we can rest in piece and live the way we want in the afterlife!" He grabs you by the hand and pulls you close in excitement but you weren't having it. You quickly pulled away and shoved him back. "Your fucking insane."

"Only for you, and death!" Dazai laughs it off like a kid at a comedy show, he knew that wasn't right to say but he doesn't think before he says something.

"Dance with me Y/n! Let's dance our way into the afterlife, and rest in peace like forever lovers." He grabs your hand again and drags you to the edge of the roof, u tried hardening your foot on the ground but he kept dragging you until you both were on the very edge. The air blows against your face, you were too focused on trying to stay alive and Dazai couldn't care less as he admired the view of the city that he will no longer see. You screamed and yelled, trashed and tried to punch at him but it was no use, his strength was too much for you to overpower and there was nothing you can do. Nobody can hear your cries of help because you were too high in the air for them to hear. You didn't want this. "Ready my love?"

He slowly leans forward over the edge, and that's when you found the strength to save yourself.

"I wanna live!!"

You forced your strength against him with your back and made him tumble backwards, he hit his head on the hard concrete as he groaned in pain. You immediately got away from him and stood up with tears streaming down your face and your eyes showing fear. Dazai sits up and takes a good look at you, but he couldn't bring himself to say something as he spotted the tears running down your face. The fear in your eyes made him finally get the hit, he understood, you didn't want to die with him. He was too much in his delusional fantasies to be thinking about what you want, how you felt about all this. Regret written all over his face, you had to sit down when your legs were trembling so you wouldn't fall and hurt yourself. You were too busy processing what just happened while Dazai was processing his mistake. He couldn't force you, not when you don't want it. It's not love, it's forced . He felt bad, he looks at you again to apologize but couldn't find the words when he witnessed the fear in your eyes gotten worse. How could he mess up this badly?

"I wanna live."

[confusedemiposts]

Hi! How are you?? I hope you are okay! Are you still taking requests? If you are, I have a request: What if s/o is Oda Sakunosuke's little sister/brother and s/o REALLY looks like Odasaku(Oda Sakunosuke) Their hair colour, eye colour is the same as his And s/o joins to Agency. What would ADA would do? If you aren't taking requests, you can ignore this! But if you are taking requests and if you do this, it would make my day! Thank you!!

I'm on the floor I loved this! I hope you don't mind I did a small drabble for the whole agency as one at the start but only went into details with characters that knew Oda and added Ango. I didn't know what s/o was till half way so this could be seen as platonic or romantic. I hope you liked it and feel free to tell me if there's anything I'm missing

Familiar Faces 𓇢𓆸

Includes: Fukazawa (platonic), Ranpo, Ango, Dazai x Oda's younger sibling

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Notes: Dark Era and season four spoilers!!! Slight Beast! mention but no spoilers (Fukazawa), Probably oc, not proofread, bad grammar, gn reader, reader is unaware that Oda was in the mafia, reader is implied to be over 18

Format: Headcannons/ Drabbles

Summary: Being Oda's younger sibling

The Agency

You suprisingly grew up a very normal life thanks to your older brother. You knew he had a dangerous job and admired him greatly, after all who wouldn't? He took in orphans and visited them daily, bringing you along too. It became your whole life.

The day everything changed left an indescribable ache in your chest, like a piece of your world vanishing, leaving behind a void filled with quiet memories. You had just finished up school that year but your whole life was gone, everything you had was gone and you didn't even know why. It took you a few years till you decided to use your abilities for good and find out what happened.

You ended up joining a detective agency filled with ability users who are all very helpful and kind. It felt so welcoming that you genuinely enjoyed working here..but however, you couldn't help but notice three who looked at you with a certain, almost sad familiarity—as if they knew you. You hadn't met them before but they knew you- or at least some part of you that you didn't know how, they knew him. It's unnerving because how do they know?

Fukazawa Yukichi

He'd recognise you immediately

Well at least who you're related too

He only met Oda once as a teenager

I don't think he met him again so I doubt he knows what happened (tell me if I'm wrong)

Might've heard that he wasn't an active assassin anymore

Definitely on guard when he meet you

Like a relative of a former assassin willing applying to be a detective?

But you were different

He could see it in your eyes that were full of emotions,loss and compassion

Unlike those eyes he saw years ago

You have never killed

It was a bit unsettling though

He needed to know of your intentions

He glanced at you and then back at the application form. He knew he recognised that name, he knew that tinge of red hair and those empty brown eyes that mirrored the features of that boy—an exact replica. To him it made sense to have this interview in the cafe instead of his office.

But the eyes he was looking into were different this time; instead of being void of any emotion it glinted with loss and nervousness. This was an interview, of course you were nervous as the older man continued to keep silent, you felt like he was judging your very soul but in reality he was wondering something else.

Finally he puts the sheets down and clears his throat "What motivated you to apply for this job?". He was curious, you were undoubtedly related to the assassin so why are you applying to be a detective? What were your intentions?

Trying to calm your nerves, you took a deep breath. "I want to do good. I want to help people, like my brother."

He didn't react, but it was evident he was waiting for further explanation, especially regarding the mention of your brother. The silence hung in the air, prompting you to delve into the details.

Hearing your explanation of Oda surprised him

He didn't know any of this (I think)

To know that kid changed into a caring young man and raised his sibling and the orphans

Those eyes that were once lifeless, with no care for his life or anything, had changed

Said he must've been a good man

I think Fukazawa would've tooken Oda in like Ranpo back then :( maybe that's what happened in beast

He gave his his condolences when he found out he died

The waitress in the café came and asked if you two were ordering

Fukazawa ordered something small

You ordered a curry, spicy specifically you said

Fukazawa officially hired you when you passed your entrance exam

He knew you were a good person

I'd like to think later on he might tell you that he met Oda when he was a teen

Edogawa Ranpo

He met Oda twice

First as teens

And last in passing as adults

He tried to stop him :(

When he first met you he instantly knew you were related

He also knew that you were trying to find out how everything happened

I don't think he'd tell you at first for your sake

But as you get closer as friends maybe he would

Somewhat guiding you into figuring it out yourself

Ranpo doesn't act like it but I think he cares

You're having a bad day and about to snap?

You find a sweet you don't remember putting in your pocket

It's very small acts but it comforts you

Alone at your desk, with everyone gone home , and you asked if you could stay over a little to longer to finish something you'd been working on for months– finding out what happened that day.

Coming home from school, you headed to the curry place where you and your older brother always ate, where the orphans were cared for. Instead, you found chaos – police, bystanders, and a devastating revelation from an officer.

Devastated, you waited in grief for your brother, only to discover he was gone too. Everything you knew and loved vanished, leaving you desperate for answers.

You've been building up this personal case for months, you weren't that suprised to find out Oda was a mafiaso and former assassin but god still not knowing why everything happened still gnaws at you, Your world was taken, and the lack of understanding weighs heavily on your chest.

You groan and slump against the desk, the frustration of not knowing amplifying the ache in your chest. You felt like you were getting nowhere.

You felt a tug on your shirt and you lift your head up startled to see Ranpo leaning behind you. He doesn't bother asking why you're still here because he already knows but when you're about to ask him the same question he shushes you with his finger and pulls out a bag of sweets "I left these behind". That's a lie- unless he really wanted these specific sweets that he so happened to leave behind.

He pulls up a chair beside you, the wheels squeaking from only slight movement and plopping himself down.

Silently he offers the bag of sweets, you presume he wants you to open it and you do, going back to your papers after but he offers you the now open bag again, a silent invitation to take one.

You mutter a quiet thank you and take a sweet. It's silent as you both eat the sweets but it's a comfortable silence.

Osamu Dazai

Oh my god

I can't

You knew Dazai back when Oda was alive

When he came to the house or orphans

I'd say you got along

Oda definitely told Dazai to refrain from mentioning the mafia to you

And he kept to that no matter how many times you asked Dazai about how he knew your brother or what his job was

You were probably somewhat friends :(

Didn't see each other for four years until you joined the agency

At first you didn't recognise him

He's wearing less bandages

But he certainly recognised you

An exact image of your brother

I feel like there's two ways this could go

1. He completely ignores, distancing himself from you

2. He's completely all over, absolutely protective of you and making sure your okay at all times

I think it be both

You found that everyone was quite welcoming at the agency and you got along with everyone... although there was one who always avoided you no matter what.

And that was Osamu Dazai.

The moment you stepped into the office his heart dropped as if he seen a ghost, his facade halting only for a moment before he picked up his usual demeanor again. Quietly slipping away before you see him

He'd be stupid to think you wouldn't recognise him but he ignored you anyways. Oh you're coming back from a case? Where did Dazai go? He suddenly vanished (sarcasm). You try to approach him? He is sprinting the other way.

He cannot look at you at all without thinking about Oda, he will not let you close to him again because everything he never wants to lose is always lost and he doesn't want to lose you too.

He is trying to distant himself from you, he doesn't want you to get hurt, he wants you to be safe, he wants you to live the normal life that Oda tried to give you, he wants you- your gaze, your words, your touch-and it scares him, everything worth wanting is lost the moment he obtains it, that is the life of Osamu Dazai.

Though he ignores you directly, he watches over you through other means, making sure in any plans your safety is first, that your teamed up with someone dependable and your getting home safe after work.

But Dazai can't run away from ghost's forever, not when that ghost is at arms length. He always manages to slip away when you try to even speak to him but not this time- you got him cornered, he has no choice but to see his past once again.

I don't know how to write confrontation so just wheater you argued or broke down crying

He will realise he can't keep you away

Perhaps he'll let you close again

But not too close

He knows very well that you see his facade

Being with you he doesn't have to keep his bubbly mask on

You'd both sit silently together by Oda's grave

The silence is not deafening with you, it's calm, a silent mutual understanding between you

He would definitely have nightmares of losing you too

Too the point I don't think he'd leave your side

Constantly hovering around you, partnering up with you everytime so he knows your safe, knocking at your dorm in the dead of night because of a nightmare

It's silly he thinks but still it worries him deep down, after all he is human

Ango Sakaguchi

I know he's not part of the agency

But I think he helped you get into it

I think Ango would've taken care of you:(

Not directly but from afar

He'd feel too guilty

Finding out that you were looking for a job involving where you could get hurt he immediately directed you to the Agency

Partially because of Dazai

He knew he would watch over you no matter what

And you'd have each other :(

[night-dazai]

hi i need a ada dazai x reader x beast dazai smut please ;-; or otherwise with the same idea except that it's Chuuya x reader x beast Chuuya smut I'm eager to read and I love what you write I would be happy if you can write it 🙏

I have a feeling both Beast Dazai and Port Mafia Dazai might be similar in some senses here is the link to what I wrote of dazai X Reader X Port Mafia Dazai. I will mostly be writing this in headcanon form and not a storyline. ( cause too many ideas that way and I am already too late in answering this request sorry😭😭 )

I just loved these requests I did not know why I did not do them before !!!🥳😅

Dazai X Reader X Beast Dazai : 

Both looked the same at the same time not the same, the time travel machine which brought both you and your ADA detective lover “Weird never knew there would be a day I would see someone like me with a lover “ Beast Dazai scoffed scanning you from head to toe. 

It was going to take some time for your friends in the other universe to fix the machine and take you two back but that did not matter here. The Dazai were fixated on making sure they stayed at the port mafia headquarters. 

Your lover broke down a little when he first saw his dear friend Oda point a gun at him thinking he was beast Dazai but after escaping from him you were busy comforting your lover by riding him. 

“Osamu~” you moaned hands on his shoulder while he buried his face in the little space on your neck not looking at you and it had been like this for a while “Please look at me “ you would beg. 

Legs giving out and pleasure fading due to your slow moments “Hurry y/n” Dazai said not lifting his face. You thought he was crying but he was feeling a lot more inside “Please I feel scared look at me “ you said and this time losing all patience you grabbed his hair with a harsh tug pulling his face from your neck where red bruises adored your skin. 

Wet eyes, heart-shattering look, mouth quivering and biting his bottom lip Dazai looked at you, your heart squeened very painfully. All thoughts about your pleasure flew out of the window you wanted him to feel safe and loved not like this. 

You have never seen him like this, but now that you have seen him like this you don't like it “Please… he did not know, Oda would never do that you know right ?” you said rubbing your soft hands on his checks as he nuzzled his face “ mhh… I do ….he hated me y/n “ his voice quivered and shook. 

That's it you bounced a harsh one making him hiss and look at you confused “You only see me now, only me “ you said pushing him onto the big black bed and started moving again. Your legs hurt but you did not brother. 

Seeing your determination just made the man choke up more but holding your hips he helped “Harder love “ he mumbled as you both were near the end, the room door opened with a bang “What the hell happened I hea–” Beast Dazai paused capturing the scene in front of him. 

Dazai quickly got up making you lose your balance but his hand held you in place “You…” he said while you scrabbed and hugged your lover tight “Now now …you sad huh ?” Beast Dazai asked seeing the looking at his other self. 

He knew the feeling, he knew it better than anyone and he would also like to forget it, closing the door he removed his coat “I am sad too..” he pouted in faux affinity. You looked at your lover worried about this new development, it has been 4 days since you both came here and now what is this ?!

Your lover said nothing and moved inside letting his other self climb up behind you naked and rubbing his dick on your soft ass” mhh” you whimpered feeling your lover thrust in while the other clutched your breasts and twisted your nipples. 

Beats Dazai groaned in an animalistic way making you shiver but soon you found yourself mouth stuffed with your lover and the other self pounding into you at a rough pace. 

Your neck hurt and your back arched in the most breathtaking orgasms that they pulled out of you taking trunks to pound your pussy. It was not very different but Beast Dazai had a certain roughness your lover did not possess ( or so you thought ) and that had you feeling very different. 

After hours of helping both of them feel had you pass out in the middle to wake up to both of them on either side of your bed. 

In the next 3 days, your friends fixed the machine and you were back to your universe, but sometimes you would think about that night asking your lover to get rougher with you. 

“You can .. it won't hurt, “ you said shyly while Dazai contemplated your new requests, “ finally I can be…no I can easily hurt her it is not good, “ your lover thought and shook his head “Bella it is easy for me to hurt you and I won't like it “ his voice filled with concern and love. 

But driven by lust and hunger you shouted “Then do it ! For heaven's sake what am I a little kid huh !” you shouted pushing your hair behind annoyed. But before you could open your eyes you were flipped and on your stomach hands held tight on your back and Dazai dangerously close to your ear “Then don't complain later “The soft and sweet warmth was gone, and the cold brutal tone made you shiver with anticipation “ yes sir “ 

“That's a good girl “ Dazai smirked at the new awakening of you which just turned out to be more advantageous for him.

Chuuya X Reader X Beast chuuya : 

There won't be many differences between both of them in the style of fucking, both are rough but sweet. 

But one thing is for sure if you are dating anyone of them they would be more focused on making sure they did better than the other. 

His dick hitting parts that you had no idea but now painfully going near your cervix you shouted for him to slow down. But a hand held your neck and pulled you up “Who is better ?” Beast chuuya asked in a sexy voice which almost made you feel like you could cum on his voice alone “Feels good …..good” you mumbled. 

Mind all hazy while the other chuuya using your ass smacked it and kissed you glaring at the Beeast chuuya, it felt so good. 

You did not like the idea of getting shared but here it's chuuya and chuuya and you feel good so it does not matter. 

Unable to breathe due to the intense kiss you squirmed gaining a smack on your clit “Stay still slut “ Chuuya mumbled while Beast chuuya chuckled “Oh yeah, think you are better than me ?” he challenged.

This made the other redhead thrust harder and faster, your whole body shook and jerked with the intense force. Ass and clit red and puff a little painful from the hard thrusts into your ass and cunt while each focused on ripping out as many orgasms as they can give you as your milked their dicks dry “Harder.~~” you mumbled. 

Chest and neck filled with red and purple bites “Pretty “ Beast chuuya said running his hands over your chest and pulling your nipples with a harsh tung getting a whimper “Good doll “

Both of them chuckled seeing your fucked out face and state of mind where nothing other than a dick was all you wanted “Yes doll “ both said at the same time, surprising each other but soon smiled “I think we can find out with the number of marks tomorrow as to who is better “chuuya said. 

“Challenged accepted “ Beast chuuya said smirking, leather-gloved hands held your neck “Heard it doll, you better tell us “ 

[elizais]

hello! i really enjoy your teen pm dazai stuff so can you please do a pm!teen!dazai first kiss with reader? i love the one where you wrote about meeting pm dazai

of course!!!

pm!dazai x fem!reader first kiss as teens in the PM, reader is the same age as dazai fluff fluff fluff

it all started when osamu found out about chuuya having a mission at a party. since you three were all 16, he would be at a party with other kids around your age. and when chuuya told him he was probably going to be kissing a girl before dazai, he just couldn't have that.

"i mean, dazai, i get to just meet a girl and instantly get a kiss! do you?" was one of the things the ginger said. this was their humour so he knew not to take it to heart, but, he was with a pretty girl every day. you.

although chuuya was only teasing, that couldn't be a milestone he gets to before osamu! so, naturally as a teen boy having a crush on a girl.. he came to you to complain.

the bandaged boy was lying on the couch in whoever's office you were hanging out in today. you were playing games on your laptop before he started on whatever frustrated him today.

" uhhh [name]?" he asked, sounding a little less confident than he usually does. you decided to only reply with a "mhm?" rather than ask what was wrong.

"did you know that shorty is going to a party for a mission?" annoyance clear in his voice. you groaned as the familiar losing noise came out from the game before replying to dazai. "yeah, nothing too interesting i think. it's with those annoying rich kids, there are a couple of nice ones though."

dazai carried on whining, knowing you won't shut him down. he always admired how you were there for him - even if you only saw him as a friend. or so he thought.

slowly shutting your laptop that mori gave 'strictly for work', you walked over to sit on the arm rest by his feet. leaning back on the sofa, you sighed. "he's probably having soooo much fun." osamu carried on.

"osamu,, what is really up?" you turned your head to see him slowly sitting up straighter. " i don't know! i just hate that hatrack so much why does he get to go to a party and i don't? like it's soo unfair! and mori-san should have definitely let me go like what the hell-" he began ranting.

you stood up and faced him while he sat. "that's not it, osa. what is it? you wouldn't be actually upset over this. if you were you would be with oda and ango drinking over it."

he sighed, praying his face isn't becoming red as he stood up too, so he can face you more comfortably. "he was just teasing me about getting to kiss a really pretty girl and.." he said nervously, very out of character for him. "and i don't get to kiss my pretty girl." he slipped out ever so quietly.

and you could only smile before grabbing his chin and using your thumb to reassure him. it was both of yours first kiss despite your big age. and you just pulled his face closer before the gap was closed.

it only lasted for maybe a second before you pulled away out of pure shock. a mafioso stumbling over her words with red cheeks and full of giggles. "oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. osamu i'm so sorry i jus-" you quickly blurted out as he stopped you before pressing another kiss to your lips with a smile.

the both of you burst out laughing. shock, love, happiness.. all of the happy emotions filled you. was it the best kiss? no. was it your best kiss? yes.

[misslovasstuff]

“Goodbye.”

[Sanji x reader]

summary: after getting to know each other, time has come for you and Sanji to part ways.

author’s note: Oda and I would agree that Sanji and angst go well together. I love how emotional he is and how deeply he feels things.

Was there ever a good in goodbye or did someone just inserted it there to make people feel less grief, less pain and more peace?

“You must go.” - trembling hands find their way in his chest, pushing it slightly away from where you were standing. Clenching your fist and jaw from resenting to tears, you turn around, ready to walk away.

Sanji had a look of confusion on his face, however there was a hint of indecisiveness as if for the first time, he was being torn apart. Not because he didn’t know what had to be done but because of the courage he would have to muster with saying good bye to you; his love, the spirit that breathes life into his body, the hands that gently caress every wound, the woman that looked at him in the eyes and decided to love him forever. However,

Does forever ever last for the lovers of this world?

“Wait, - his voice cracks as his hand reaches out to you. - I don’t want to say goodbye.”

His mouth trembles as if he wanted to say something more but the words were stuck on his throat. Shutting your eyes close for a moment as a sigh comes out of your mouth, you turn round slowly to face him; the man that came in your life so unexpectedly and showed you the way true love is supposed to feel like.

To your surprise, true love is found in little gestures that mean the world to you; a simple touch of the hands, a surprise meal you always wanted to try, doing things without expecting anything in return…especially that.

All your life you were always hesitant to ask for help, to ask for any favours knowing very well that those people you show your most vulnerable side to will exploit you and use these moments against your path.

But Sanji? Goodness, Sanji is a sweetheart. He only does everything with a loving heart, out of love and for love.

To you, h’s the clarity of the sky and the warmth of the sun, the light of which managed to brighten up even the darkest of alleys in your heart.

How do you let go of someone like that?

“Sanji, - you approach him and stand stiffly, hesitating to touch his face and caress it to comfort him no matter how much your entire being was begging you to. - that dream of yours…”

The blonde blinks in anticipation as he notices your hesitation to comfort him and yourself. Did you want to make this last interaction less painful that it already feels?

“That dream of yours is beautiful. Go, sail away and find the all blue! - the tone of your voice gets louder as you grab a hold of his two hands, holding the them tight near your chest as you look into his eyes.

Ah, those blue eyes of his which you called your treasure suddenly soften, a hint of blush covering his cheeks. The sparkle you had in yours however, always left him feel at awe, seeing galaxies dancing in them as if you looked at him and saw a universe worth of stars that would fall and burn brightly, turning into nothing if it meant you could have even a small moment of warmth.

Sanji pulls himself in your embrace, taking your hands and kissing them both. He smiles before making your forehead touch his as he whispers the words:

“I’ll go find that dream, - both of your eyes are closed but it felt like you could see how fast your hearts were pounding in sync with each other. It was like your two souls connected with every simple touch, gaze or word. - but I want to live it through with you.”

You’re surprised upon hearing his remark. A wave of pure happiness hits you in the heart, understanding that this time, this very moment might not be the last. Perhaps…

“I’ll come and see you again. - Sanji continues, as one hand of his travels to your cheek, cupping it with his warm palm and caressing it soflty. - so i’m not saying goodbye.”

“I will wait for you.” - a simple reply from you makes the blonde ecstatic, grabbing your waist gently as he looks at you with a smile, approaching your lips.

“You better. - he smugs, brushing your lower lip with his thumb, - as for me there is no other woman in this world but you.”

With your cheeks flushed and your eyes stuck on his gaze, you grab his tie and pull him into a kiss.

Your fingertips brush off his neck as his travel around your back, pulling you closer to his embrace. There is heavy breathing between multiple kisses you’re giving him, to which he gladly reciprocates, getting more and more pulled by you almost effortlessly, like a hungry man devouring his food gracefully served, all for him and only him.

After a bit, you break the kiss softly, watching how his gaze upon you is so tender and heart-melting, completely hypnotised by you.

“A small reminder why that’s the case, love.” - you pinch his nose, as someone calls for Sanji in the distance. He notices and looks at you one last time for a while:

“That seals it.” - Sanji claims, brushing his fingers through your hair while the other holds your cheek. - Take care of yourself, alright?”

You nod, caressing his inner arm while pressing his palm against your warm cheeks, trying to register his touch in your brain so you never forget.

“You too, - now you’re both holding hands as the distance between you slowly grows, your heart takes over your mouth:

“I love you, Sanji.”

The poor man’s heart skips a beat at your confession, now making it impossible for him to move even an inch further away from you.

“Such a beautiful heart you have, - he replies, - thank you for giving it to me. I promise to take care of it whenever I am. As for me…”

A wide smile conquers your face, feeling that special warmth all over that you feel only when Sanji is around. That’s a way you know, you’ll never forget him.

“If I were to express how strongly I feel about you, it might take us decades, love.”

With that statement you chuckle, seeing Sanji walking away backwards, as if he’d miss a chance of admiring your laughter which gives him a boost:

“I love you! I love you like a crazy man! I’m in love with you!” - Sanji shouts out loud, winking and blowing kisses. He looks at you fondly before turning away and running back to the ship.

‘Please be safe’ you whisper to yourself as his figure disappears in the distance.

His back was so wide, as if he was carrying a big weight that no one could see. You got Sanji, understood him to his core which caught him off guard and was the stepping stone to your relationship. At first, he looked at you differently. Of course as he’s a bit biased toward women, but if anyone who knew Sanji would be a witness to how he looked at you, they’d be more than shocked.

Some would say he looked at you with such fondness, with a mixture of awe and adoration, never tiring at the sight of you smiling and looking at him with an honest and sincere heart which he could feel you had. Others would say he looked at you with tenderness and pride, his heart swelling every time you’d talk so passionately about life and your beliefs. When he saw you for the first time, it was as a night flower had found the moonlight, and his life was forever changed. The surroundings disappeared and so did the the past and the present as he prayed silently for his future to be you.

It never changed, up until this moment, as he runs away, a single tear falls from his eye.

‘Please, wait for me. I’ll see you again, I promise.’

Sanji whispers to himself, wiping away his tear and building up the courage to walk forward his path and his life, although a very important part of his was left here.

He’ll miss you, surely, as the flowers miss the spring and as the birds grieve their home while they fly away. For now you felt like home, a place where he could be himself were your arms and a heart that understands him would be pillow he’d rest his head drowned in dreadful thoughts. Thus, the weight of your absence was heavier than any other which he could carry.

But he’ll be back to find you and when he does, you’d be more than ready to give him a life that he deserves to live, the love that he always deserved to have. And you’ll wait patiently for him, as a dry land waits for the rain and as a lighthouse waits for a ship to safely guide it back home.

The good in goodbye?

The good thing is, lovers never say goodbye.

If true in their love they are, surely fate will make them meet again.

[a-killer-obsession]

Unspoken [Heat x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

My own personal headcanon for how Heat got his scars, mixed with some friends to lovers fluff

CW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, graphic descriptions of gore/injury, surgical/medical procedures, descriptions of vomiting, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, thigh job, cumshot, oral (reader receiving), creampie, pre-anime setting WC: ~6k

Masterlist || AO3

A/N: I'm not a doctor, I don't think this is a procedure that would even exist or work, and I'm also pretty sure they wouldn't keep a mouth wired for that long but PLOT. Fuck it, if Franky can rebuild himself on death's door with the scraps of an abandoned ship then I can make this fictional shit work. I just went with what makes sense to me after hundreds of hours of Grey's Anatomy. It's fiction babey. This whole fic is based on my personal headcanon for how Heat breathes fire and how he got the scars, for those who don't know we don't currently have a canon answer from Oda about them.

Your blood ran cold as you looked at Heat, kneeling in the dirt, his hands desperately clutching at his face, blood dripping in curtains and rivers down his neck and through his shaking fingers. His eyes were wet with tears of pain and fear, mixing with the streams of crimson that ran over him, staining his clothes, catching on the strings of his corset and turning the pinkish cords a dark, wet scarlet. Your legs carried you before your mind could process what you were seeing, cutting down the enemy beside him before they could deliver the finishing blow, dropping your sword to the ground with a metallic clang as the enemy's body hit the ground with a heavy thud. Heat's eyes were dark and full of anguish, and you cupped his face, trying to be careful of his wound but there was so much blood. Despite your delicate approach crimson still ran in rivulets through your fingers and down your forearms, tickling your skin as it snaked over it and trickled off.

“It's okay Heat, it's okay, I've got you,” your voice was hoarse and breaking as you tried your hardest to stay strong for him, to hold back your own tears and fear in order to bolster his strength.

You tore off your loose, flowy shirt, pulling it from beneath your underbust fashion corset, uncaring if it left you in your bra on the battlefield. You held the cream fabric to his face, immediately soaking scarlet as though dipped in a dye bath, pulling his hands to the fabric and encouraging him to hold it fast to quell the bleeding. You scanned the battlefield, the remaining enemies close to being entirely dispatched, as you searched for the tallest member of your crew. Spying him and his red trident that glinted in the sun, his long coat billowing behind him.

“WIRE!” you shouted, throat pulling raw under the force of your call. He ran his trident through another enemy as he turned to you, your face hidden from Heat as you held him to your chest, your eyes running with tears you failed to hold back. You, the to-tough-to-cry doctor of the Kid Pirates, hired for your unwavering strength in the face of blood and gore and death, visibly struggling to contain a sob as you looked to the tall man with fear and anguish written on your face as you held the blue haired man. His long legs carried him fast to you, dropping to his knees and skidding to a stop in front of you, his hand going straight to Heat's shoulder. “What happened?” he asked, his voice stern but threatening to crack.

“Get him back to the ship, now,” you replied, unable to bring yourself to properly answer the question, lest the fragile dam wall inside you break. “I need to find Kid, I'll be right behind you”

Wire nodded and pulled Heat into a bridal hold, the slightly smaller man letting out a whine as he was shifted, blood immediately transferring to Wire's netted shirt as he held him close to his chest and began to run. You searched the dirt for the missing piece of the puzzle you would need to help Heat, scrambling forward to collect the dismembered jaw before anyone could stand on it, his bottom row of teeth on full display, the skin and muscle torn at the edges where the enemy ripped it clean off right in front of you. You gagged but picked it up regardless, returning to scanning the field, this time finding the red haired captain easily as his giant metal covered arms swept through a line of men.

“CAPTAIN!” you called out. He didn't hear you over the creaking and crashing of metal, or the boisterous roar he let out as he crushed skulls in his Punk Gibson arms. Thankfully, the first mate heard, and his striped mask turned to you, noting with concern your lack of shirt and the thick, wet blood that glistened on your chest. He ran to you as your legs threatened to give out, catching you with strong hands as you began to dissociate at the traumatic events and those that would no doubt follow in the aftermath.

“What happened? What do you need?” He asked, overly worried, thinking it was you that was injured given the sheer amount of blood on and around you. You replied by forcing the jaw into his hands, turning, and retching. Your lunch hit the ground with a splash, legs wobbling weakly under you as one hand rested on your knee for support, the other clutching at Killer's button up shirt, turning the white polka dots red under your hand. “What- whose jaw is this?”

“Heat's,” you gagged again, the remnants of your stomach contents and bile coming up, till you were dry retching and there was nothing more to pass. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, balling Killer's shirt in your fist as you tried to steady yourself. You needed to get it together, Heat needed you. “I need Kid, I need his metal manipulation. I have no doubt Heat has a significant crush injury to the rest of his face, I need Kid to build him a new set of bones so I can operate.”

“Get back to the ship, I'll get Kid,” Killer pushed you in the direction of the Victoria Punk, pushing the jaw piece back into your hands and giving you a supportive pat on the back before sprinting away. You began your own run, your mind running as well, trying to go through every step in your mind you would need to help Heat. You weren't qualified for this, you weren't an orthopaedic surgeon, hell you were a general practitioner when you were still a law abiding citizen. You were used to common colds and broken arms from monkey bars, not this. In theory you knew how to help him, and Kid being able to manipulate metal into the correct shape would help, but it was still an immensely risky and complicated operation. Jaw surgeries usually only happened in small portions, adding or removing fragments to correct alignment and mobility issues, you'd never even heard of a full replacement. You knew the Strawhats had a cyborg though, how different could this be? You were smart, you just had to figure it out, for Heat's sake. You could only hope that he would survive, and that the prosthetic wouldn't be rejected.

Heat came too with a quiet groan, waking you from where you slept in an uncomfortable metal chair at his side, your head resting against the infirmary cot as you held his hand. His fingers twitched as he came to, your head quickly shooting up and relief washing over you, having been unsure if he would even wake at all after the marathon surgery you'd had to perform. You yourself were exhausted, but the other's could drag your cold dead body from the infirmary. It's not like you were anything more than friends with Heat, but the fear you'd felt seeing him so badly hurt was unlike anything you'd ever felt, you felt your heart in your throat the whole time you operated on him, and now you couldn't bring yourself to leave his side.

“Don't try to talk,” you quickly urged him, squeezing his hand reassuringly, your other resting on his chest as you stood so he could better see you, “I'm right here, you're okay but you're really hurt and I had to wire your mouth shut, don't try to speak”

His hand came to his face, feeling the bandages that wrapped around a significant portion of it - only his nose, eyes and forehead visible beneath the swathes of white cotton strips. His eyes went wide, looking at you with furrowed brows and that same fear you'd seen when you found him on the battlefield.

“I'm gonna tell you everything you need to know, but I need to know first if you're in pain,” you soothed, patting down and stroking the blue hair that stuck out from the bandages. “Show me on your hands, ten being excruciating, how much pain are you in?”

You let go of his other hand so he could lift them, holding up seven fingers for you. You took one hand and kissed it softly, before guiding it back to the bed with an affirming nod. “I'm gonna get you some pain relief okay? I'm not going anywhere, just to the cabinet”

He gave you a small nod and watched you disappear out of his sight line as you gathered items and returned to his side, drawing liquid from a small vial into a syringe and injecting it into the IV line attached to his inner elbow. He hadn't even noticed it, seeing now the half depleted bags of fluids and blood, another spent blood bag still hanging on the hook for later disposal. It was clear to him by your red, puffy eyes that you'd been crying, and it broke his heart to think he was the cause of it. He made a small sigh and closed his eyes as the medication quickly took effect, relaxing as the sharp ache in his jaw turned to a dull throb. You grabbed a notepad from your desk and returned to his side, sketching a quick diagram of a skull.

You waited until his pain was visibly settled and his eyes opened again, the dark irises immediately searching for you. You gave him a soft smile as your eyes met, his brows relaxing and smoothing like he was relieved to see you still there. “I'm gonna explain your injuries now okay? Do you want to sit up for this?” He gave you a little nod in reply and you went to the back of the bed to raise the head, leaving your notepad on his blanket covered thigh as you jacked up the end of the bed and fluffed the pillows behind him to make him comfortable. You sat back down as you took back your notepad, pointing to the diagram with a pen as you began to explain, Heat watching intently, his eyes flicking between you and the paper.

“From your maxilla downwards, as well as parts of your cheekbones, was entirely crushed,” you began, “your mandible was entirely torn off as well. With Kid's help I was able to replace the damaged bones with a metal prosthetic, then I used the skin and muscle I was able to recover from your mandible, as well as a graft from your thigh, to cover the metal. I did my best to leave clean stitches, but the injury was quite dramatic, and you can expect permanent scars from your mouth to your ears, over your cheekbones, and along your jawline as well as where your chin meets your neck. You may also find your face isn't exactly the same, but Kid did his best to replicate how you usually look. Your tongue was thankfully left undamaged but your teeth had to be entirely replaced with metal, as well as the roof and floor of your mouth. You may find your tongue is slightly less manoeuvrable due to losing some of the membrane that connects it to the floor. I imagine right now all you can taste is metal, but I assure you you'll get used to it over time. Given the significance of your injury I wanna keep your mouth wired for six weeks so the muscle can properly adhere to the metal, but it'll take about twelve to fully heal. I went ahead and installed a feeding tube for now, but in a couple of weeks I'll remove it and we'll swap to whatever you can manage to eat through a straw. Killer is already working out a menu for you to make sure you have enough nutrition and variety. Um… I think that's everything. Do you have any questions?”

Heat indicated that he wanted the notepad so you handed it to him with the pen. The man had awful handwriting but you were able to decipher his note. ‘When can I talk again?’

“Not till the wires come off,” you sighed, “but you should still be able to make throat noises, like grunts and stuff. Your voice will probably be a little weak for a bit as well when you can talk again”

He nodded and wrote something else. ‘Everyone else?’

“The other's are all fine,” you smiled, a little teary-eyed that he was so severely hurt but his concern was for everyone else. You took his hand and ran your thumb over the base of his. “You really scared us”

‘Sorry’ he wrote, significantly messier now that you were holding the hand that previously stabilised the paper, and he gave your hand a squeeze.

“It's okay,” you gave his hand another kiss and pressed your forehead against his knuckles, “I'm just so happy you're okay. You gotta rest for a couple of days cos your body went through a lot, but I can move you back to your room when this IV bag is drained okay?”

He gave you a small nod and moved his hand to cradle your face, running his thumb over the tear that'd escaped and trailed down your cheek. You gave him a gentle smile and put your hand over his. It was a soft moment you hadn't experienced with Heat before, but you were just so thankful he was okay, and that he hadn't panicked about his mouth being wired shut. All things considered, he was talking it all really well. He would no doubt be irreversibly changed by this experience, but he was alive, and that's all that mattered right now. “Do you feel up to seeing the others?” You sniffed as you broke the silence, “they're eager to see you. You've been asleep almost a full day”

He gave you a little nod and let his hand fall from your face as you stood. You adjusted his hair so it wasn't in his face and made sure his pillows were good before heading off to find the other commanders. You had to stop in the hall outside the infirmary door to compose yourself before you could head above deck, dam walls dangerously weak as you sniffed and shook your head to pull yourself together.

The first night was the worst for Heat. The other men had helped him to his room, still a little wobbly on his feet from being unconscious for so long. He was out like a light immediately, mostly due to the extra dose of pain relief you gave him so he could sleep comfortably. Unfortunately though, he didn't stay asleep. He woke from a nightmare, a repeat of the event that led to the injury, and he wanted to scream. He couldn't though, and bile flooded his mouth as he clawed at his bandages. His breath was rapid and he felt like he was going to drown in his own vomit. He threw the blankets off and bolted for your room, banging on the door desperately.

You opened the door just as panicked as he was, immediately clocking the fear in his eyes and his hyperventilating. You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the infirmary, which was right across from your room so you could be close to patients under observation, and pulled down the bandages that covered his mouth. You held his swollen lips apart with your thumb and index as you took a pair of wire snips and severed the connection, and he immediately retched and vomited yellow liquid on the floor. He groaned from the pain opening his mouth had caused, and you carefully guided him to a cot, supporting his jaw as you walked with him and encouraging him to sit. Holding his face in your hands you made exaggerated breaths with your nose, a hand on either side of his face and thumbs under his jaw to hold it, his hands firmly grasping your forearms, until he followed your guidance and the rapid panicked breaths finally settled back to a regular pattern.

“You're okay Heat, you're okay,” you cooed. You held him to your chest as he began to sob, his hands balling the fabric on the back of the oversized shirt you'd worn to bed, holding you like a lifeline. “You're okay, you're safe, everything is going to be okay”

You held him for an age until his crying finally stopped, and he sat quietly while you rebound his wires to protect his healing jaw. You inspected him carefully to ensure no damage had been done by the sudden movement before wrapping the bandages back around his face, cooing assurances to him the whole time. You led him by the hand back out of the infirmary, stopping for a moment at the door to consider your options, before ultimately leading him to your own room. He was clearly thankful to not be going back to bed alone, curling up against you immediately, face buried in your bosom despite the pain it must have caused by putting pressure on his wounds. He didn't care, he just needed you right now, and you were happy to hold him as long as he needed. He'd been through something traumatic, it was only natural to need a friend right now. You'd be whatever he needed, as long as he was alive.

A few days later and Heat was given the all clear to go back to a fairly regular schedule. Kid had told him he could be excused from his chores, but other than his face he felt fine. He didn't want to sit around idly while people looked at him with such pity, he hated their forlorn looks, as though they were the ones hurt, while they ate whatever they pleased and talked freely. He carried your notebook in his pocket in case he needed to communicate, but he'd always been kind of quiet anyway, so he mostly made do with grunts and nods. You hovered near him most of the time, but he didn't mind it. You were maybe the only person who's coddling he could handle right now, especially considering you continued to let him sleep in your bed. He'd had a few more nightmares, but with you beside him he was always able to quickly calm before it escalated to needing the wire snips, though you kept them on your side table just in case.

For two weeks Heat woke in your bed, followed you to the infirmary for liquid nutrition via the feeding tube, went about his day, ended it with another feed bag, then followed you to your room. He'd never really asked to keep staying with you, but you welcomed him with open arms every night. As his external wounds began to scab over and heal he was able to get more comfortable in bed, and you often woke up with him on his side spooning you, hot heavy limbs wrapped around you. It gave you butterflies to feel his soft breath against your neck, his hands pressed gently to your stomach, his leg hitched over your hip. You didn't even mind when his morning wood pressed against you, but you never brought attention to it, no matter how much it made arousal pool between your legs. Heat was just your friend, he was just here for comfort, the morning wood was just a natural, unavoidable thing, nothing to do with you. That's what you told yourself anyway each time his semi-hard cock pressed against your ass while he slept.

Three weeks along and the feeding tube was removed, leaving a new wound in its wake that would quickly heal. The wires in Heat's mouth were still there, but you'd loosened them a little to allow for slight movement and space for a straw, and Heat was more than happy to be able to breathe through his mouth. Killer had dedicated himself to providing tasty but nutritionally balanced liquid meals for Heat, while also not making him feel singled out. If the crew was eating spaghetti, Heat got blended meat and tomato soup. If the crew was eating waffles, Heat got a sweet, syrupy banana smoothie. It was wholesome how much effort Killer put into it, he clearly cared a great deal about Heat. Heat was just thankful to be able to taste more than metal, and to feel the satisfaction of something sliding down his throat. It gave him much needed normality, but fuck he would do anything to bite down on a burger.

Now that his wounds were beginning to scab he was able to stop wearing bandages all the time, though you still put one around his head to support his jaw at night. It made him look like one of those cliche drawings of an injured man, with just one bandage tied in a bow on top of his head. He had trouble looking at his reflection, but that was to be expected with the slightly different face shape and new scars. All in all though, things were getting better day by day, and though he hadn't had any nightmares in a while, he still stayed in your bed. His stuff was slowly accumulating in your room, and at some point you caved and cleared a drawer for him. He was just a friend though… just a friend… even if you had started to want more.

In his silence you found yourself missing Heat's gruff voice. You heard it in your dreams, as he pressed his warm body against yours and made slow thrusts, whispering sweet nothings as he made love to you. Calling out his name as he brought you to your peak, bodies covered in sweat as you writhed under him. You were panting when you woke up, entirely oblivious to the open eyes behind you, the raised brows, the sweet sound of his name on your tongue playing on repeat in his head after moaning it so beautifully in your sleep. His hold on you firmed, fully formed erection pressing between your legs, right where you ached for him. You whined as your hips rolled back towards him, seeking friction, aching from the hot and heavy dream, his warm hand running down your front and holding your pelvis against him. His other hand reached between your bodies, freeing his aching cock from his sweat pants and sliding it between your legs, rubbing against the dampening cotton panties that you wore. He could feel your slick soaking through the fabric as he made deep thrusts, pushing against your clothed clit with every motion while your plush thighs applied the pressure to his cock that he so desperately craved.

Your fingers intertwined with his, pressed over your hips as he held you in place, moaning and panting as he fucked your thighs and made wanton whines in your ear. His name fell from your lips in rivers of honey, a mantra repeated over and over as he hooked your panties and pulled them aside, pressing his leaking cock directly between your hot wet folds. Every thrust pressed the fat head directly against your swollen clit, slick leaking from your hole and coating him, lubricating his motions and making sloppy sounds. His hands held your thighs firmly together as his pace increased, electricity building in your abdomen, clit pulsing with need as he bullied against it. His forehead pressed against your shoulder blade and he let out a muffled groan as his seed spilled out and pooled between your legs, coating the space between your labia in thick white globs and dripping down the front of your thigh. You made a choked sob as you convulsed around him, further soaking his cock with your release.

He made no effort to move as he made laboured breaths against your back, holding you tight to him like you might disappear at any moment. You held his hands tight, the occasional aftershock making you shudder as you came down from your high. Too shell shocked and surprised to even discuss it, you both lay in silence. Eventually you heard soft snores behind you and his hold on you naturally relaxed as he fell back asleep, his softened cock still held tight between your cum coated thighs. You couldn't bring yourself to get up to clean them, you didn't want his arms to leave you. So you lay beside him and let yourself be lulled back to sleep, resting easy in the wake of a satisfying orgasm.

Neither of you talked about what happened the next day, well, not that Heat could say anything anyway. Maybe you were just quiet in solidarity. But it felt natural and easy when he took your hand on the way to breakfast, intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling you to sit next to him on the long bench seating. Nobody said anything as he continued to hold your hand through breakfast, and stayed hovering at your side as you made your way afterwards to the infirmary to set to work for the day. He was practically attached to you, hugging you from behind whenever you were still for a moment, nuzzling his nose against your neck and inhaling your comforting scent. Neither of you said anything as his hand wandered down your front to your mound, when you eagerly lifted your skirt for him, when his fingers delved between your wet folds, when he bent you over your desk and fucked you till you were clawing at the wood, or even when he held you softly in his lap on the floor afterwards, running his hand through your hair and pressing his nose against yours.

You kissed him softly, his wounds barely healed enough to allow for the slight pressure, cursing the wires that held his mouth closed and kept your tongue from his. He sighed as your lips quietly pressed against his, and he craved you as much as you craved him, counting down the hours till he could taste you. Neither of you said anything, it didn't need to be said. In that moment, your lips soft against his, his nose nuzzling against yours, quiet sighs and hands wandering over bodies, it was clear how you both felt.

Weeks passed and finally, today was the day Heat's wires would be removed. Everyone was more than excited, and a great feast was planned for the evening, though you had been sure to make sure Killer planned many soft foods for Heat, on account of his muscles being unused and healing for weeks. Heat was more than eager to be promoted to real solid food though, even if he wouldn't have the jaw strength for a crunchy apple for a little while longer. Just the act of chewing was something he was excited for. Not to mention talking. Most of all, he was excited for what he could do with you. Though you'd shared many soft, closed mouth kisses, he longed to taste you.

The whole crew had easily accepted your new relationship with Heat, many commenting that it seemed like a natural fit. He may not have been able to use his mouth, but that never stopped Heat from finding plenty of other ways to pleasure you, many… many… ways. He couldn't help but growl in frustration though whenever he pressed his mouth against yours, tongue fighting against the metal fake tooth barrier to seek you out, but always losing the fight.

He sat on the edge of one of the infirmary cots, knees twitching with anticipation as you gathered your tools. Kid, Killer and Wire all stood nearby, here for moral support but more than eager to hear their long time friend speak again after so long without his husky voice.

“Now, remember,” you spoke as you pulled on gloves and came to stand in front of him, “your jaw will be sore and stiff, and your voice will be a little strained. It'll be like you spent all night deepthroating and screaming.” The other commanders snorted laughs at the joke and Heat rolled his eyes, pulling on your sleeve in a wordless plea to hurry up. “Okay, okay, calm down I'm doing it,” you huffed playfully.

Holding his now well healed, scarred lips apart, you carefully snipped the wires that bound his teeth. While his mouth may now be free to move, you'd already explained the procedure to him, so he continued to sit still and patiently as you took a paste corrosive and removed the hooks that were glued to his metal teeth. You wiped away the excess before putting down your tools and removing your gloves, cupping his face with your hands and giving him a reassuring smile. The way his skin sat over his bones, combined with his new scars, gave him a perpetually sad expression, but you still thought him more than handsome, and your heart was beating fast in anticipation.

“Ready?” You asked. The other commanders couldn't help but step closer in their excitement.

He gave a small nod against your gentle hands, and you released his face, holding his hands in his lap instead as he took a deep breath. First he just worked on moving his jaw, opening and closing it, moving it side to side, testing the limits and gauging the pain levels, refamiliarising himself with the motions. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them and looking right at you. Something dark irises made you swell with affection for him, and you squeezed his hands in support.

“I- I-” he coughed out, making a little frustrated growl at how hard it was to speak.

“It's okay baby, take your time,” you cooed.

“I- l-lov-e yy-ou,” he forced out, his voice scratchy and hoarse, like he smoked five packs a day. Your eyes immediately welled up with tears, mouth wobbling as you threw yourself at him and sobbed, wrapping your arms around his chest and crying into his corset shirt. He rested his head against your hair, stroking your back tenderly as you cried. “I-I love-e you,” he said again, a little smoother now as his vocal chords came back to life.

“I love you too!” You cried against his chest. Kid made a fake gagging sound somewhere behind you, which was followed by the slapping sound of someone smacking him, followed by a pained groan.

“Let's leave the lovebirds to it,” Killer suggested, dragging Kid out by his ear, “I'm sure they have a lot to talk about.” You could hear Kid's protests as Killer dragged him away, about how he was captain and he had a lot to talk about, but Killer and Wire successfully managed to pull him out to the hall.

Your mouth crashed against Heat's the moment the other commanders were gone, tasting your own tears as he was finally able to reply with all the passion that he'd been waiting anxiously to show you, tongues finally meeting for the first time and moans swallowed as you pulled desperately at his shirt, his hands on either side of your head as he held you to him, his own tears mingling with the kiss as he got his first taste of you.

His hands ran down your side, hooking under your ass and pulling you up into his lap as his mouth travelled, running his tongue over your neck and shoulder, pushing aside your shirt to make gentle bites against your skin. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you ground your centre desperately against the erection you could feel forming in his baggy pants, making him groan against your skin.

“W-wan-tt tt-oo t-as-te you,” he stuttered against your skin, picking you up with strong hands and carrying you to the desk, quickly pulling down your panties the moment your weight was supported on the wooden surface. He pulled you forward by your thighs as he knelt in front of you, making your breath hitch as he pressed kisses along your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps as he trailed them up and up, till he met the apex. He looked up at you with hungry eyes as he ran his tongue between your folds, and he had to pause to get a hold of himself, almost cumming from that single taste of you alone. Your hands dug deep into his hair and held him to you as he gathered the strength to continue, ignoring the ache in his jaw as he ate you out, groaning against your wet flesh and forcing a string of moans from you as you supported yourself with your other hand, watching him devour you. For weeks you'd dreamed of this image, but it was even better in person, his tongue burying inside you and making your thighs quiver as pressed his appendage against your inner walls, trying to claim as much of your honey as he could.

“Ahhhhh Heat~” you whined, “I'm- I'm gonna cum~”

He looked up at you, eager to watch your face as he brought you to climax with his mouth, and he felt the wet release drip down his chin as you shook and gripped his hair harder, calling out for him as you fell back against the desk and shook. He gave you a wide swipe of his tongue as your shaking settled, standing tall again and lowering his pants to free his throbbing cock. Your fingers wove into the cords on his shirt as he lined himself up, using them to pull yourself back up and kiss him hard as he entered you, tasting yourself on him. Your mouths parted only for brief necessary breaks for breathing as he fucked you hard and fast, swallowing each other's loud moans as his fingertips dug into your hips and your hands pulled hard on his hair. The desk creaked and rocked slightly under the brutal pace, and soon you were clamping down around him, thighs squeezing tight against his hips and lips barely leaving his in time to scream his name as your orgasm crashed into you, seeing stars as your whole body shook with an intensity you never thought possible. His teeth sunk into your shoulder almost hard enough to break skin as he groaned and spilled out inside you, making messy, erratic thrusts as he worked you both through your orgasms, till your entire body practically turned to jelly and he had to move his arms to your back to keep you from failing as you went limp.

You had a dazed, fucked out smile on your face as he kissed you softly and laid you back against the desk, one finger hooking in his shirt again as he lowered you, looking at him with such affection that he wondered if he'd actually died on the battlefield six weeks ago to be in such heaven. “I love you,” you mumbled up at him with a half lidded smile. His jaw ached as he smiled back, wide grin stretching across his face as he looked down at you, “I love you too,” he whispered back.

A/N: As for Heat's fire breathing, I think much like Franky, Kid would take advantage of the metal parts to augment them and add the feature. Do I think he'd still burn the shit out of his lips and tongue and basically sizzle his brain on a hotplate? Absolutely. But Franky does it fine and we know he has a normal inside of his mouth, so that's One Piece logic babey!

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Pls don't ignore if you don want to do it, please just dm me that you don't want to or I will assume you didn't see it and wait forever. I have a very specific request. How would bsd cast react to guiding light not being able to do a lot of things due to medical problems? I have a port wine stain on my left leg, it covers the whole thing, and it swells A LOT. Like, it is always swollen but sometimes it gets worse. I can't jump or run or even climb well because of it, making gym class hard and stuff like that. How would they react to it? On top of that, I think it'd be funny if the guiding light was short af, like shorter than CHUUYA. Teen reader if possible, gender neutral or male please. Byeeeee.

I hope, you enjoy it ☺️

Teen! Short! Male! Reader with medical problems

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Characters x Male! Teen! Reader

Slight Self-Aware! Platonic! Chuuya Nakahara x Male! Teen!Reader

Slight Self-Aware! Platonic! Oda Sakunosuke x Make! Teen! Reader

Warning: OOC. English is my second language

_________

🐾 BSD Cast have a feeling, that you have some health problems. They heard, how, sometimes, you rant to "them" about having problems during gym classes, or hissed under your breath, because "it hurts again". So, they prepared in advance. Yosano, Doc and Mori were searching web , trying to get all possible information about any possible way of treatment. They weren't sure, what exactly they need to do to help you, so, they try to prepare for anything.

🐾 When Kirako "woke up" from her stasis, she shed the light in your condition. So, they start to look in about your medical problem specifically. Yosano, Doc and Mori will keep all information in mind, to help you ease the pain. Or, if there is a way, to heal you.

🐾 When they got into the real world, BSD Cast won't immediately attack you with questions about your health. They will wait, until you feel comfortable sharing this information with them.

🐾 But, from the first day, they will try to make you happy.

_____________

School was over, and you were on your way home. Today was one of "this days", and your leg was sore. So, you tried to move carefully. Unfortunately, today all cars in the household were occupied, and Albatross was still in a process of getting license, that would allow him to drive teens on his motorbike. So, you will have to go home by feet. You called home beforehand and explained to BSD Cast, that you might be a little bit late for lunch.

You walked 1/4 of the road to your home, when you saw Chuuya and Oda walking towards you.

"[Y/N], hello. How is my little brother doing?" if Chuuya's grin is implying something, it would be the fact, that Chuuya liked, that you were smaller, than him, and he can tease you in a friendly way. You rolled your eyes.

"I am fine. And what you two are doing here?"

Chuuya point at your backpack.

"We decided to meet you and go home together. Now..." without further words, Chuuya put his hand towards you, waiting. You took off your backpack and give to him. Immediately, Oda offered his elbow for you to hold on.

"And, remember, just ask, and we will slow down." Oda ruffled your hair.

You three went home, talking about your day and what you want to do today and these weekends.

___________

🐾 Yosano, Doc and Mori will be ready to help you at any moment of the day. Will offer to ease your pain (medical herbs, special massage, etc.)

🐾 If there is a treatment for your problem, Fitzgerald will offer to pay for it. The cost doesn't matter, he will pay for anything.

🐾 For the most part, their relationship with you won't be too affected by your medical problems. BSD Cast will still treat you as their son/nephew/little brother/older brother/grandson. They will spend time with you (watching movies, reading books, playing video games, doing hobbies, etc.)

🐾 They want to make you happy. And will do everything, to achieve that.

[riiwrites]

Can you make something for Oda? Where he started seeing his s/o who also takes care of the orphans and are gifted as well, maybe able to sing a deadly lullaby, and when the orphans got killed his s/o takes down the Mimic instead, out of grief and rage by using their gift and maybe Oda comforting after that, then maybe they leave together to start a new. (this man seriously deserved better)

a quiet life

a/n : i actually couldn’t wait to write this idea, oda truly did deserve so much better. asagiri when i catch you oda is coming back in the next arc (trust it trust it!)

a/n : i found it quite odd i used 'mom' considering i’m scottish but oh well!

pairing : oda x gn!reader (reader is referred to as mom by kids)

genre : fluff at the beginning, angst angst angst

warnings : mentions of blood & murder

wc : 3k

masterlist taglist main page

"Don’t you think stars are a beautiful sight to gaze upon?"

Oda turns to you, a soft smile placed upon his features.

"Rather lyrical tonight, aren’t you?"

You turn to him with furrowed eyebrows and a playful smirk on your face at his harmless comment

"Don't you enjoy my whimsical poetry?

“Indeed I do, but you only seem to talk like that when something is on your mind.”

You relax your expression and your smirk falters only to the same soft smile he gave you. You look down at the concrete below you as you begin to speak.

“Don’t you think a quiet life would be nice?”

Oda’s smile falls down to a small frown. He reaches from under your chin to lift your head up so you can face him.

“A quiet life?” He repeats, beckoning for you to elaborate.

“Yeah.” Your eyes follow his own as you look up at him. “A quiet life with the kids.”

“You mean the five children who are anything but the definition of peace and tranquillity?”

At this you laugh, your smile returning to your lips as you cock your head to the side with Oda’s hand still resting underneath your chin.

“Absolutely.” You say with such certainty. Oda smiles as his hand traces up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin ever so gently.

“I’m happy with the life we have currently of course, but..” You pause.

“But?”

“Don't you think having such a delicate part of your life along with such a tough part of it also could shatter everything in such a short bit of time?”

He frowns, understanding what you mean by your words.

“You mean my job, correct?”

You nod, letting out a soft sigh as you turn away from him, his hand no longer resting on your cheek as you look up at the night sky.

“I know I tell you this almost every night but you know I’m right, Oda. This mafia life you claim to have going for you isn’t great and it’s going to catch up on you sooner or later, no matter how much of a good person you are.” You truthfully say, giving him a look of hurt and worry.

Oda gives you a look with sympathy, him only nodding in understanding and turning to also look at the sky. A moment of silence passes through the wind before you continue.

“I just want us to be safe.”

“We will be.”

He brings down a hand to cup your chin once more, bringing it up to make you look up into his eyes.

“Do you remember that creative mind of yours describing to me what our future could be if you had the world in your hands?”

You think for a few moments, recollecting your thoughts until you eventually find that fond memory.

“To build a cabin house with six bedrooms, around four windows placed in each room alongside the kitchen..” You whisper.

“What else?” He urges

“One little TV placed on a cabinet table in the living room so the children can eat their home cooked meals with a proper working furnace, beside it being a cozy warm fireplace that’s well kept away from the children..” You giggle at your last comment.

“And?”

You pause, resting your cheek into his palm as tears fill your eyes, attempting to hold back your sorrow but when you imagine such a peaceful life with such ordinary requests that you can’t reach it becomes a bit difficult for you to maintain composure.

“A little baby room, for when we have our own one day..”

Oda smiles at this, rubbing his thumb up and across your cheek, wiping away the tear that threatens to fall from your waterline. He gives you the sweetest kiss on the forehead, his other hand coming up to rub the back of your head in a comforting manner.

“I want to sit in a room that overlooks the sea.” He says, now resting his forehead against yours. “A room where we can read to all of our children those stories I will write one day and those lullabies you will sing to them also.”

You look up to meet his eyes once more.

“Our children?”

There’s a moment of silence before he lets out a breathless chuckle escape his lips.

“Our children.”

More tears escape your eyes, you sniffle and wipe your tears as Oda wipes some more from his fingers.

“My beautiful partner..” He starts.

“My beautiful soon to be married..” He continues.

“We will be alright.”

You brush through Sakuras hair with one of her pretty pink hairbrushes she insisted on you using. You were helping each one of the children get ready for bed, each one having their own unique personality and behaviour to them.

Kōsuke, being the oldest out of all the orphans Oda took in. He always insists he can get ready himself, and although he can - he hates the rule of having to actually getting ready for bed specifically so it’s naturally your job to make sure he’s managed first.

Katsumi, the second hardest to actually help get ready for bed. Not because he can’t manage it, but simply because he would much rather play baseball outside even when it’s dark.

“I just don’t understand why you two would want to play out here after hours, especially when there’s creeps and bad things out here that lurk in the night..” You speak to the children from the balcony you were standing on, looking down at the two boys who were so persistent on an extra five minutes.

“What, bad things like monsters? Hah! I’m not five anymore! Those stories are stupid!” Kōsuke argues, crossing his arms as he stands stubbornly to clearly state he isn’t moving any time soon.

“Yeah! Plus, if any creepers came up to try and hurt us we’d beat them to a pulp!” Katsumi shouts, balling his fist and punching his baseball glove, his eyebrows furrowing and smiling mischievously, showing his missing tooth on his upper teeth. You giggle, propping your elbows up on the bannister and resting your chin on your hands as you stare fondly at the kids. You pout jokingly as you begin to speak.

“Well, it’s a shame really..I guess I’ll just have to sit all alone and read my lullabies to myself.”

At this Katsumi’s expression flickered into a change rather quickly, his eyebrows now furrowing in a sad manner as his demeanour changes within a flash.

“Hey wait!! I wanna listen to your lullabies Y/N!”

Kōsuke turns around to Katsumi, a look of betrayal written all over his face as he stomps his foot.

“Hey!! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“But Miss/Mister Y/N’s gonna be lonely..” He pouts.

“Uh- no, they’ll have Mr Oda to keep them company!”

“But I enjoy the lullabies..”

“Oh come now Katsumi it’s okay, just go on and get ready for bed kay?” You say with a sweet smile on your face, Katsumis face immediately lighting up as he runs up the stairs to the balcony and into the building.

Kōsuke watches in disbelief at Katsumi rushing off within an instant. He glares at you as you stick your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry like a child yourself as you turn around and beckon for him to come in, him following behind you without any hesitation with him mumbling and grumbling like the five year old he said he wasn’t.

Next was Yū, he wasn’t much of a bother considering how he was rather preoccupied with his games, although he sure liked to keep your mind busy with him joining the other boys antics and frequently sneaking his electronics into his bed so he could attempt to play them overnight, most of the time his plan fails.

“Yū..” You say with a quirked eyebrow, your hands on your hips as you stare at him from the bunk bed.

He turns to you with a sweet smile that could’ve fooled anyone, but not you.

“Yeah?”

“Give it.”

He tries to pull a confused expression, only making him look silly due to the fact he was trying not to smile whilst being caught in a lie.

“I don’t know what you could be talking about..“

“Miss/Mister Y/N, Yū hid his gameboy under his pillow!!”

“Sakura!!”

He groans in annoyance as you smirk, holding your hand out for him to give you the electronic, him complying with harsh movements as he grabs his pillow, lifts it, grabs the gameboy but places it in your hand ever so gently, crossing his arms and pouting. You pat him on the head with a soft smile, taking his hat off in the process.

“Bed, now.”

Now for the most competent one, Shinji. He was the sweetest and timid boy you ever met when you first started seeing Oda. Rather quiet and cautious with himself and around others but the more you got to know him, the more you saw just how easily comfortable he got with you.

“And no reading under the covers!” You say as you take the book from Shinji.

He nods with a sweet smile as he heads to bed. But before he gets into the covers, he pauses for a moment and stays there, almost seeming like he was hesitating to ask something. You stand as you watch his back freeze and you wait patiently for him to turn around and gain the courage. He turns around cautiously and fiddles with his little fingers before asking quietly.

“C-can you read me it..?” He asks kindly, pointing to the small picture book you took from him and then instantly looking down when he notices you glancing at the book and back at him. Your heart melts, a small pout forming on your lips as you smile.

“Of course, sweetheart. Come on let’s tuck you in.”

Oda doesn’t think Shinji’s ever smiled so brightly in his life.

Sakura was the quietest next to Shinji, although she had a bright and caring personality around everyone. It was kind of hard being the only girl out of all the kids for her, not being able to have the same interests as the boys all seem to have. Sure, she messed around with them and played tricks on Oda with their silly fake mafia style games, but she never actually had someone to talk about the things she really wanted to talk about or do - which is why she found the most comfort in you.

Which is where you are now, brushing her hair gently with the pretty pink hairbrush she so desperately “needed” you to use. She claims it makes her hair shine, you believe so too.

“Your hairs so pretty, Miss/Mister Y/N..” Sakura says with a cute smile as she stares at you through the mirror, seeming so mesmerised by you overall. You grin as you brush her hair so gently, not wanting to brush too hard through her tugs.

“Thank you, Sakura.” You say softly, looking down at her head so you don’t miss any unbrushed ends.

“I wish I had hair like you..” She tilts her head to the side slightly, kicking her feet back and forth on the chair she was sitting on. You furrow your eyebrows playfully, the smile still remaining on your lips.

“That so?”

“Yeah!” She beams.

“Well, what if I told you that I’d much prefer to have your hair?”

At this her face lights up brighter than before.

“Really??”

“Mhm.”

“But why?”

You stop brushing her hair for a moment before placing it on the desk of the bathroom, smiling and placing your chin on top of her head.

“Because it’s so perfect, silky smooth and is the best to style.”

She gets excited at this, bouncing up and down as she pats her legs.

“I really do like my pigtails..” She says with a bit of shyness.

“They’re beautiful on you dear.”

“You do them best though!!” She exclaims, giggling as you hug her gently.

“Hey Miss/Mister Y/N?” She says after a few moments of giggling.

“Yes, Sakura?”

There’s a little pause before she thinks of what to say.

“Are you technically my mommy?”

You stop for a second, practically freeze in place. You blink at your reflection in the mirror before you turn to look at her fully.

“What do you mean, dear?”

She shifts on her butt and turns around to now fully look at you, hugging her knees to her chest as she slowly continues to elaborate.

“I mean..you always take care of us..and you act like our mommy, and although i wouldn’t mind if you were my dad also..I’ve never had a mommy before..”

Your heart breaks at this. She was right, Oda was their father figure that was present in all of their lives from the beginning, saving them one by one from death and raising them up until now without any mother figure present. Although, Oda has clearly done an amazing job raising these kids you can’t help but have sympathy for all of them for feeling so..empty? You’re snapped out your thoughts quickly as you feel Sakuras tiny hand tug on your sleeve.

“Can I call you mommy?”

You pause, until a soft smile is placed on your lips and you lean in to kiss her forehead.

“Yeah, you can call me that.”

She smiles happily, now crawling up to you using her tiny hands to claw at your sleeves to help her get up to your lap. Now sitting on it she cuddles into you, feeling warmth on your chest as you smile happily, wrapping your arms around the small little girl as you rub her back soothingly.

“I love you mommy.” She says sweetly.

“I love you too dear.” You whisper softly, not knowing that Oda had been leaning against the door the entire time with the most heart warming smile ever present on his face.

“You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away”

“Mom! Why do you always have to sing that one song? It’s getting boring now..” Katsumi whines, resting his cheek against the corner of the chair as he looks up at you.

“Yeah, it’s a stupid song..” Kōsuke grumbles, crossing his arms as he looks to the side in a huff.

“Hey, don’t be mean!! I love the song mommy, I do I do!!” Sakura beams, grabbing your leg with her hands as she begins to shake you in her grasp.

Oda chuckles at this, leaning against his hands from where he was sitting on the floor with the kids as you sat in the rocking chair, singing them lullabies before bed.

“I didn’t think you guys could be so opinionated. I remember back in the easy days where I’d just give you all a bottle of milk and you’d be content.”

“Hey! I am content!” Kōsuke retorts, glaring at Oda.

“Do you even know what that word means?” Katsumi asks.

“…”

“No.”

“Neither.”

“Okay but seriously! What’s the deal, mom? Why can’t you sing us another song?” Katsumi exclaims whilst Yū agrees.

“Yeah! I wanna know too!”

You tap your cheek with your finger a few times as you look up at the ceiling, pretending to look as if you were thinking before you looked down at Oda who was looking at you like a lovesick fool.

“Should I tell them?”

“Should you?”

“Should I?”

“STOP IT!!” Kōsuke shouts. “Just tell usss!” He groans.

You giggle. “Okay okay,” you say softly as you place your hands in your lap before you whisper gently.

“What if I told you all..that I had special powers?”

“Like super powers?” Yū asks, you nod. The children all beam at this, even little Shinji who was placed on Odas knee now hitting it in excitement along with Sakura on the other.

“Like Mr. Oda’s super powers..?” Shinji asks.

“Well, the same term - but not the same power.” You start.

“My ability, is to hypnotise those who dare to hear my lullabies..” You explain. “And unfortunately, due to my ability, I can’t sing specific songs to you guys because I don’t want to harm you all with my power, so I found that this song which you all liked seemed to work wonders!” You beam.

“Used to like, now it’s so overused..” Kōsuke groans.

“Be nice!!” Sakura snaps as she slaps Kōsuke on the leg.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Alright that’s enough..” Oda grabs Sakura and places her away from Kōsuke, who just mutters under his breath and sinks further into his pillow.

“Wait wait wait!” Katsumi holds up his hand as to say ‘pause’.

“Is that why whenever I hear your lullaby, I feel myself getting sleepy..?” His eyes widen as he speaks, as if he’s just had a realisation. Oda chuckles at Katsumis accusation.

“I don’t think that’s quite it, Katsumi..”

“No no!! It totally is!! Look at their creepy face!!” He screams out and points to your mischievous smirk as you look down at all the children to which they all squeal at this, now all attempting to hide behind Oda although Kōsuke on the other hand remains unfazed, staying in the same position in his pillow.

You laugh, breaking character completely. “Alright alright! No, Katsumi, I’m not hypnotising you to sleep.” You begin, reaching over to boop his nose. “You, are just naturally tired.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-huh!”

Oda picks up Shinji with one arm and Sakura with the other, smiling softly at the other older children. “Alright guys, time to sleep.”

They all groan.

“Nooo!! Please!” Sakura whines, kicking her feet in the air from where Oda’s holding her to which Oda ignores her pleas as he takes her and Shinji out the room, Yū and Katsumi trailing behind soon after, leaving you and Kōsuke alone.

You turn to Kōsuke to see him staring at the floor, seeming to be lost in thought.

“Something on your mind, Kōsuke?”

Kōsuke looks up at you and purses his lips together, muttering a little 'no' under his breath.

You know he’s lying, so you persist.

“Is it the song?”

“…”

“No, the songs fine..”

“I thought it was overplayed..”

“No!” He snaps. “I like the stupid song! I just hate how it makes me feel..” He says the last part quietly, you raise an eyebrow, looking down at him.

“How do you mean?”

“Just..makes me feel stupidly tired and..stupidly..-“

“Content?” You finish for him.

“..Yeah, whatever the hell that word means..”

You smile as he says one more thing. “I don’t want you to stop singing, your voice is nice, you’re nice.”

“I’m nice?”

“Mhm..”

Your smile only grows. You reach over and ruffle Kōsuke’s hair to which he slaps your hand away.

“Thank you for telling me that, Kōsuke..and for what it’s worth, I think you’re just as nice too.”

You actually see him smile, he sits up properly now.

“Can you sing me it one more time?”

“Tomorrow, love.”

“Okay.”

You think that would be the end of that while lasting moment, until he says one more thing.

“Thanks, mom.”

You turn to him as your health melts for the last and final time.

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Little did you know, that would be the last and final time you’d ever sing that precious lullaby to your sweet babies before they were taken from you.

You were walking back from the grocery store, two bags full of sweet treats occupy your arms as you hum the same sweet melody you sang to your kids the previous night.

It wasn’t until you had reached around the corner you see..what is that, smoke? Coming from near the place the kids stay. ‘That’s strange' you thought, maybe the chef had burned something? He’s always one to make mistakes, or so you thought.

You hear police sirens, ambulance sirens and even..screams? You recognise it within an instant ; Oda. Your eyes widen as you begin to rush over to the scene, only to find your boyfriend on his hands and knees, practically sobbing his heart out and screaming his lungs up at the ground as he’s infront of a blown up van. You rush over and kneel down to Oda, dropping one of your groceries to touch his face.

“Oda, baby, what’s happened talk to me please, are the kids okay..?!”

That question made his stomach churn, and he turns his head up to finally look at you, and he looks traumatised and absolutely broken, although it doesn’t answer your question, so you repeat it.

“Are the kids okay..?”

“…”

“Oda..”

“…”

“Oda, god don’t do this to me tell me the kids are okay..”

Oda shakes his head, tears now streaming down his face as he lets out choked sobs inbetween his next words.

“Y/N..I-I’m so sorry..I tried..I tried to keep them safe I just-..I didn’t..”

Your heart drops, your eyes widen even more as realisation hits you like a truck.

You stand up and slowly walk over to the van which is now been surrounded by yellow and black caution tape. You look down at the floor and see blood, lots and lots of blood and one thing that truly confirms your fears makes your heart break.

Kōsuke’s sunglasses rested on the floor covered in smoke confirms absolutely everything.

You drop your groceries, your body shaking with fear, sadness, and anger. You fall to the floor You fall to the floor on your knees as your breathing becomes heavy, little gasps escaping your throat as your throat closes up, your hand covering your mouth as you sob, Oda within a flash is now by your side as hes also on his knees, cradling you and hugging you so close to his chest that he’ll think you’ll disappear from him anytime soon.

“I’m so sorry..I’m so sorry..” He repeatedly whispers, sobbing into your hair as you sob loudly into his chest, both of your hearts hurting so much full of grief and woe.

“My babies..they were my babies..” Your screams are muffled by Oda’s jacket as you breath heavily into it, hyperventilating hard.

You dig your nails into his shirt, tears staining it as you claw as if you were looking for answers, looking for practically anything as to find any source as to say 'Hey, this is a dream' but no, you were right infront of it, the truth.

Your babies were gone.

Days later…

Oda was sitting on the same rocking chair you once sat on when you read and sang those cherish-able words and lullabies to the children. He stares at his feet, in such a grave state of confusion, denial and depression. You had been AWOL for the past few days now, Oda giving you your personal space as he doesn’t want to overstep or push you any further but oh what he would do to be basked in your affection and comfort right now, it was all he needed. He fears if he’s alone for any longer he may do something drastic. That is until..a creak from the door let’s him escape his thoughts.

Blood, the first thing he sees. You covered in blood, your face and body and hands all covered in someone else’s blood made his own run cold, his eyes widen as he sees your hurt expression, you both look into eachother eyes knowing how much you were both truly hurting.

It wasn’t until you dropped to your knees, grabbing the covers of one of the children’s bunk beds Oda gets out his seat swiftly dropping down and hugging you tightly, a little similar to a few days ago. He lets you let it all put, god knows you both need it. You sob and sob until your heart lets out everything you had left to offer, because what else was there left to give? Everything you once had was taken from you within a second, something so delicate, so fragile ; shattered.

“I killed him.” You start, Odas heart drops.

“You killed who..?” He whispers.

“The bastard who took our babies..” You seethed.

Oda notices your voice and how hoarse it was, and that’s when he realises the painful truth. You had used your ability, a deadly lullaby, to kill the mastermind of the plot to take away your children.

“Baby..it’s okay..please j-“

“Run away with me.”

“..what..?”

“You heard me goddamnit, run away with me Oda what the hell are we waiting for?!” You scream out. Your voice, raspy and breaking from the previous moments you ripped that disgusting man’s life away from his throat and body.

“We’ve been sitting, imagining and talking but why not live it already? Nobody’s stopping us!”

“My job is stopping me, Y/N-“

“No the hell it isn’t, stop bullshitting it!! You can quit, you can be free, Dazai will be fine he can come visit us and whatnot the kid will be the boss by twenty-three you know it, I know it..!”

You grab his face into your hands, his cheeks becoming covered in blood from how dirty your own were. With wide eyes you whisper, desperation and need evident within your voice as you plea.

“Please, for me, for the kids..”

Oda looks at you in disbelief, his breathing shaky as he stares at you with wide eyes staring into yours.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, you’re hurting..”

“So are you, but we can heal.”

A pause.

“And..hey, what way to start that goddamn journey by building a cabin house..?” You let out a breathless laugh, Oda laughs with you, resting his forehead against yours as he finally whispers.

“With a room that just overlooks the sea..”

2 years later…

The waves crashing against the shore make a perfect combination with the melody you now sing in the depths of your dark brown clattered cabin.

“You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away”

“Please don’t take my sunshine away..” You whisper once more with such genuine feeling before you plant a kiss on your gorgeous newborns head, stroking her head as she sleeps peacefully in your arms as you rock back and forth amongst the rocking chair.

You hear a few creaks from the floorboards and from your husband, who carefully steps out of his writers room as he doesn’t want to wake up his child.

“Hey.” You whisper.

“Hey.” He smiles.

“What you doing in there?” You say softly as you nod your head to the writers room hes just emerged out of.

“Working on my book.”

You nod, smiling as you look down at the baby, then back at your husband.

“I haven’t had the chance to ask, what’s it about?”

Oda cautiously walks up to you and kneels down next to you, stroking his baby’s head with the back of his hand.

“Just, how having such a delicate life along with a tough part of it also has its consequences and could shatter everything within a short space of time.”

“Rather melodramatic tonight, are you not?

“Don’t you enjoy my whimsical poetry?”

You smirk as he smiles, before he stands back up and glances out at the window, holding his hands behind his back. You stand up, being extra careful with your movements as you approach Oda and stand beside him. He opens the window wide open, revealing the night sky and the sound of the waves crashing down on the shore. You glance up at the night sky, looking up amongst all the beautiful stars scattered across the horizon, that is until something caught your eye.

Out of all the stars you saw, five took your fancy. Five stars shined proudly upon the horizon as they shined together and with no other star before, at this you smile, tears slowly filling your eyes as you nudge Oda gently.

“They’re beautiful to gaze upon, don’t you think?”

Oda looks up at the sky and instantly knows what you’re talking about and he smiles, his heart aching but healing it’s wounds just by looking at the scenery little by little.

“Yeah, they sure are.”

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